The Hall of Dead Gods

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Rurudyne, Nov 25, 2007.

  1. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Part 12: Refuge



    After their runaway friend had a long private discussion with Prime, and after Starscream had bent Optimus’ ears over some outrageous time travel caper he wanted to pull, Jazz had been left alone with and in charge of Quin.

    Or was it Ray now? Jazz actually liked “Ray.” Ray was a buddy’s name. Ray was a name for someone who didn’t seem so alone.

    It was weird listening in as Quintus Ray told Artemus about his little adventure. He spoke like the big guy was still there. “Starscream’s loop-hole works well enough I suppose,” he’d told Artemus at one point, “but it’s not the same as being around you. I guess you’re my refuge.” He also went on about how proud Artemus would be of Kup, how he had that whole “crotchety old soldier” thing down pat.

    Then he clued Jazz in on the knack for reading a “Combaticon” badge. Turned out that the similarity was only sheen deep, since Decepticon badges weren’t encoded any more than Autobot badges were. Without a word or external hint of what he was doing, Jazz pulled up the best image of their mysterious visitor: Wayside, a 2nd Lieutenant.

    Someday, someone should tell Ray about Wayside. But that would have to wait. For the moment Jazz had more than enough to worry about.

    That’s where he was now, dealing with the “more.”

    Once this had been his office.

    Now it was a mass of random boxes and thing-a-ma-bobs that Elita-1 and the girls hadn’t needed, but still didn’t throw out. He’d been excavating the clutter hoping to find the layers that he’d left behind. After a whole day’s work he found his old desk. Looks like they hadn’t thrown anyone else’s stuff out either! He found what he was looking for in a lock box in the top drawer.

    Funny how what Ray had called Artemus came to mind as he opened the box. In a way it wasn’t even half a vorn since he’d set eyes on what was inside.

    A tiny gold plate etched with symbols. Megatron must’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make his own additions seem a perfect match. He hadn’t changed much. And then there was the now impotent plating of electrum he’d added as a protective coating. The rare energon rich element had only made them more interested in finding this wondrous world called Earth.

    But the red data rod from the probe held the rest of the story: a world stuffed to the rafters with energon. Enough to make Cybertron sparkle like a star, never mind merely win some stupid war. An uninhabited world with two moons.

    Funny how that just never caught anyone’s attention at the time: a space probe from an uninhabited world. They didn’t even find traces of a destroyed civilization. But things were desperate and the opportunity was too good to pass up. So they went.

    “Screamy may just get his caper after all!” Jazz chimed as he wondered about what had happened to the second moon.

    The last thing in the box was the gadget that he’d rigged together to play the disk. He turned it on.

    The sounds of a world, a greeting given in hope. Low quality images too.

    Jazz felt something listening to it. He was seeing faces and hearing voices. Friends he left behind and never saw again. Friends he hadn’t thought of in years.

    After listening to the sounds of Earth, he returned the contents to the lock box. Something had to be done with them. Prime would know what to do.

    Only– Only he’d try to make sure the golden record was kept safe. Maybe someday it would be nice to listen to it again.

    To listen and remember.



    Epilogue



    “What is the status of Prime’s disciples, Wayside?”

    Wayside looked up from where he was kneeling.

    “Majesty, because of my carelessness the Autobots are now out in force within the confines of the upper crypt. They have not discovered the between spaces nor have they pushed any deeper than the upper reaches of Timaeus’ tomb, but it is only a matter of time before either is compromised.”

    “Don’t blame yourself, Wayside. After all, you only got close to watch some of their number honor our dead. Had I been with you, I don’t doubt that I would have done the same.... What about the two we observed earlier?”

    “That Autobot has returned in the company of the two that I encountered. He wears a Seeker badge now. I’ve not seen the other since they left.”

    “Very well. Resume your post.”

    “Should I inform the rest of the council?”

    The smaller mech shook his head: “They have enough to deal with.”

    “Sire!”

    As Wayside left, the other turned back to the window on the far side of the room. Below his office the operating theater was frenetic with activity as doctors and mechanics constantly attended their patients. No matter how much he wanted to, there was nothing he could do to help them. All he could do was wait and hope that they had enough time.
     
  2. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    I hope you've enjoyed The Hall of Dead Gods.

    I would like to take a moment to address why there was all that stuff with lawyers and the court, which probably seems very unusual for a Transformers fanfic.

    The reason has to do with some of the subtext of my Genesis story on which THoDG is based and choices I'd made to deal with one issue from the Sunbow cartoon: that the Autobots seemed to have a very poor grasp of their own history.

    Given that the Sunbow cartoon was written to tell a series of sequential stories with minimal overlap — it certainly wasn't a soap opera — it is forgivable that the show's creators didn't sit down an hash out Cybertron's whole history in advance but worked with broad strokes. The apparent result is that show writers made historical stuff up as they went along. On the one hand, such an approach allows for a lot of freedom in coming up with both "history" and subtext — one reason why there are so many different approaches to the franchise that seem to work well. But on the other hand this approach helped to foster many of the plot holes seen in the old Sunbow cartoons as well allow some of the events therein to seem rather contrived.

    To deal with this apparent (to me) ignorance of their own past, I had to come up with a somewhat believable mechanism that could account for the phenomenon. For my own purposes: I found this in redaction of the public record and the way that I tried to imagine that Transformers viewed history.

    This is what I came up with: if a Cybertronian had lived through a series of events he would remember them personally from his own POV as well as be able to point to the public record of those events (which is a bit different than "history" even if it serves a complementary purpose). There is actually a bias built into them to make them prefer the public record over their own memories. This bias exist as a control mechanism (Primacron, the credited author of this system, isn't a libertarian by any stretch of the imagination).

    If the proper authorities (or someone who can mimic same) decide that certain events or documents are too sensitive to remain in the public awareness they can either classify it outright or else "redact" it like it was some old Air Force document with chunks simply blacked out. A few examples of this were given in Genesis and Forgotten Wars. Also, a rather extreme example of the side effects of this process was seen in Quintus Ray in this story.

    While this is only subtext and cultural atmosphere in the larger WIP, the end result of those decisions (along with the loop-hole by which the Decepticons managed a work around) meant that THoDG would be a story with a lot of lawyering thrown in.

    But please understand that what all of that was about was really this: memory and being able to remember.

    Right now, Quintus Ray is in a unique situation among his fellow Autobots. Not only does he find himself in a not-really-friendship with Starscream, of all mechs, but he's also able to remember huge swaths of Cybertron's history that many around him just have no idea about. For a professional spy the two present interesting challenges and opportunities.

    One possible example, in the G2 cartoon Ultra Magnus doesn't even know when he came on line — presumably because too many important events from his youth are "blacked out" — but Ray might know or at least be able to remember the first time he met his fellow Autobot if it ever came up in conversation. This would be a "minor" example to most everyone except Ultra Magnus.

    I should point out that neither the Autobots under Prime nor the Decepticons are likely to have engaged in any of this redaction nonsense, so younger mechs like Jazz or Perceptor aren't personally as affected since much of the damage was already done by the time they came along (though the destruction of the Autobot archive in the same episode that Daniel wanted to throw Ultra Magnus a surprise birthday party may have dire consequences down the road). As for Alpha Trion, who is much older than Ray, he had extraordinary security clearance because of his previous role in Cybertron's government ... so he was probably no where near as affected as Ray was even if he would have still been unable to simply chat about things that those around him "can’t possibly know for themselves."

    As always, comments are welcome. :) 
     
  3. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    DarkScreamer, I hope you liked the way this episode worked out. I think Jazz said it best when considering Seekers that were also trial lawyers: "That's messed up."
     
  4. DarkScreamer

    DarkScreamer Active Member

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    yeah it was an awesome fanfic i do wish that it would continue it was gettin really exciting. i work on a couple of fanfic tings to and since i have seen that you have a couple of good ideas, if you can give me a good idea to work off of i might just use it . and what an awesome, Great story. :) 
     
  5. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Well, I did call it an "episode" :D 

    And thanks! :) 

    As for ideas you could use, it would depend on what you had in mind and what you were interested in.

    I usually work on the basis of subtext that supports a story but isn't the story, like laying a foundation and then building on top of it (often free form building). Of course, a lot of the subtext for this story is found in my novels (links below). But there's also The Mythopoetic Clock and The Heraldry of Cybertron (a WIP) that I've posted elsewhere. There's even a post I put up here recently: 3rd link ... but unless you're gonna tell an ooooooold time story involving Primacron or similar figure I don't know how that last bit would help much.

    Suppose, for example, that you have a passion for music. You could take the fact that Ray has his Cybertronian "old school" music collection as a starting point when another bot, say Rewind (and maybe even some of his human friends), heard some of it for the first time. In addition to possibly having the character(s) experiment musically (jam session), you could have him/them try to recover data from the archive asteroid "destroyed" in season 3 (or some other forgotten archive that Optimus, Jazz or Ray may know about). You need only look at the recent TF movie to see how some innocent doings in the public eye (like selling something on eBay or, in this instance, talking on internet chat about a little music project) can draw unwanted attention: Galvatron and company are still out there somewhere after all and there's no telling what would set them off (I think the Japanese version of season 4 had them on either Earth or Nebulos, not sure which).

    Just a note since I put that music as a starting point notion out there: I imagine that Separatist "style" music (style varied a lot) would actually a bit like rock and roll (possibly odd instrument choices though), only with crystal clear lyrics and heavy into to a robot's idea of music theory (whatever that is, I'm good for notions of time ... not nearly so for music).

    Also, a good source for transcripts and such from the old cartoon is here.

    EDIT: now that I think of it, Rewind could be a bit like Quintus Ray. He does have memory issues coupled with endless trivia.
     
  6. DarkScreamer

    DarkScreamer Active Member

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    thanks, i actually kind of like that one about rewind so i'll see what i can do with it. :)  And oops i did NOT see the "episode" part but great more's on the way... YES:)  EDIT: now that I think of it, Rewind could be a bit like Quintus Ray. He does have memory issues coupled with endless trivia.
     
  7. DarkScreamer

    DarkScreamer Active Member

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    oops i forgot to quote it :O
     
  8. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    The Hall of Dead Gods


    Episode 2: Sleepwalking


    Part 1: Cashways’



    The Autobots were becoming active in Kaon, and tiny Caris, the nearest town to the Combaticon Crypt, was becoming a town again. In the center of it all stood a little street library that had seen much worse days. The small structure’s shell had been repaired, polished, and painted with cheerful yellow trim and a red roof. The yellow on red sign outside read Cashways’ in Cybertronian script — a tribute to its original owner-operator.

    Its new owner-operator was a small mech who couldn’t even transform. An Autobot who wore a strange badge on the left side of his chest: a black face. Of course, his Autobot badge still proudly occupied the right side of his chest.

    Not that Quintus Ray had much time to let people gawk at his Seeker badge as they were wont to do. He had been busy restoring Cashways’ shell and was now working on its interior. The small establishment had never been fancy — only a dozen tables in a space almost completely open to the street — but there was more than enough work to keep one mech busy for a while.

    “Hey, Quin! It looks like you’ve gone soft on us. Or is it Ray, now?”

    Ray turned away from the data table he’d been working on upon hearing the familiar voice.

    “Resonance! Are you with someone or have you started talking in the plural again?”

    The black and tan transformer smiled at the all too familiar sarcasm and pushed his way past the “Closed for Repairs” partition.

    “Letting Starscream go like that!” he accused with a smile, “I hope you at least got the better of him!”

    “Prime let him go. I only brought him home.”

    Resonance startled.

    “He booted up here. You didn’t know that, though. Kaon’s his home.”

    “He’s a Decepticon.” Resonance’s smile wavered.

    “That doesn’t change the fact that this is his home. Mine too. And either Ray or Quin works fine for me.”

    “Thanks, Quin.... So, that makes it all better?”

    “Starscream’s a Decepticon. Almost the worst. Except for some flunky who has yet to show up he’s also on his own — if you could call being under constant surveillance and guard being on his own or, for that matter, ‘free.’”

    “You didn’t answer my question.”

    Ray sighed and set down his tools. He motioned to a seat and Resonance accepted it.

    For a long while the two of them just stared at each other.

    Resonance had been the communications expert for the team that Quin had worked with. Like a lot of mechs he’d even changed his given name to reflect his resolve and the pride he had in his skills. For so many vorns he had also been the closest thing that Quin had to a friend of any sort.

    “There are worse things in the universe than Starscream. Do you remember when you were a just-boot?”

    Resonance scowled at the term. He’d always hated it. It was a term that old timers used. Old timers like Quin who wanted to lord it over their younger brethren.

    “Resonance, I’m working on my 129,078th vorn.”

    The mech gasped.

    “But ... that’s not–”

    “Possible? Why would you say that?”

    “To be that ancient.... You would had to have been built by the Quintessons!”

    Ray laughed with unaccustomed ease, a reaction that drew a cautious scowl.

    “As if! Though I was built before what you call Cybertron’s first golden age.”

    He felt it, the tightening in his servos and his firewall clamping down. That was about all he could say. At least directly.

    “And I’m not ancient!”

    Resonance’s eyes narrowed to slits: “Those are pretty bold statements. Care to back them up?”

    “Maybe later. But Resonance, I–” he thought about it and maybe he could say something, “My father, the mech who authorized my chassis, Artemus the Magnificent, was built by the Quintessons. He was not quite 590,000 vorns old on the day I first saw his face.... You want to know if I got the better of Starscream? For almost the first time since I’ve known you, I can remember my father. I can even speak his name. I think I came out ahead.”

    Resonance tisked loudly and looked away. Ray gave him time to think about the implications of what he’d said.

    “What about the archive that Swoop found? The remains of early Autobots?”

    His young friend was as sharp as ever. If Artemus’ formidable and sophisticated chassis was in excess of 719,000 vorns old then where did some comparatively primitive frames supposed to be much younger than that fit into the equation?

    “What about them? It’s surprisingly silent on the matter of Quintessons. Or Artemus. But we both know they were there. That’s the only reason I can tell you anything about them at all.”

    “But ... then you knew about the Quintessons!”

    Ray sighed again. Resonance really was too young to understand. By the time he had been a just-boot Cybertron’s government had collapsed and the Autobot / Decepticon schism was already well established.

    “I hear you and your crew were fortunate enough to miss out on the hate plague too.”

    “Never a straight answer!”

    “Do you remember the other madness plague that swept over Cybertron?”

    Resonance hesitated before admitting that he wasn’t that old.

    “Who do you think caused it?”

    “The Decepticons!”

    “No, they didn’t. The drones that ran amuck were all driven by logic cores designed long before by the Quintessons. That’s why they called it the ‘sleeper plague.’ Primus! Were we ever blind!”

    Resonance was eyeing Ray: “I’ve never heard that.”

    “No law against people talking about this one. I guess no one imagined it was an important detail, and so it gets forgotten anyway.”

    “So why did it happen?”

    “Because the Quintessons want war on Cybertron. They– They knew–”

    He couldn’t speak no matter how much he wanted to. They had been pulling strings on Cybertron to cause war since before the original Megatron’s assassination. But almost every record of them and their villainy had been nicely classified and redacted into oblivion.

    “Jazz told me to expect troubles getting answers from you.” Resonance seemed to settle down.

    Ray nodded. Despite his best efforts to work around the edges of his limits, it had quickly become a theme where he was concerned. Even with Optimus.

    “That’s why this library is so important to me.”

    Resonance looked around at the shambles that Ray had been working on.

    “It didn’t look this bad before I started tearing into stuff.” Ray laughed, “No one ever bothered to redact all of Cybertron’s literature, entertainments or performing arts. They may just be fictions, or songs, or recorded plays, dramas, or even game shows ... but they can tell us something about ourselves now that people have time to consider them. And because there are intellectual property rights involved they can also tell us something about their age. That’s kind of an archive too. The past may be somewhat hidden from view but we can at least know how much of it there’s been.”

    “But the archive?”

    Ray couldn’t answer. He didn’t even want to consider it for the time being. He wasn’t ready.

    “I don’t know.”

    “Where did you find all these cultural treasures?”

    “What I’ve got was always here in the server cache. It’s still a work in progress, but I’ve come up with a shell program that will let people access old sessions as if they were some of Cashways’ original patrons returning again. One of the nice things about the old system of public ID codes. Think of it as a loop-hole.”

    Resonance laughed.

    “So, how have you been?” Ray asked.

    “Fine. I guess. After our early warning system failed to let Prime know that the Decepticons were coming for the plasma energy chamber, the team got reassigned to search for Galvatron. Even though he has yet to pop up again, it’s been decided to finally scrap the old ship. I’m settling into a new local job.... For the time being.”

    Ray shook his head: “I’ll take it if no one else wants it.”

    “Why? It’s falling apart!”

    “That ship and me, well, we have a lot of history.”

    Which was true enough. He’d come home in the old grunt sled to help fight the sleeper plague. It had been a wreck even then. But an undesirable ship had its own advantages. Especially that ship.

    “Besides, I’m sure I can get spare parts from the Junkions.”

    “You like fixing up old junk?”

    “Laying a veneer of the new over the old won’t fix Cybertron. Speaking of which, what do you think about this?”

    Ray jumped up and pulled a small sign from off the bar.

    “I was thinking about putting it over the entrance.”

    Resonance looked at the sign which simply said “CYBERTRON SPOKEN HERE” with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement.

    “I want to be here to see the reaction when you hang that out.”

    “Good! Consider yourself hired.”

    “What’s the pay like?”

    “Are you gonna get greedy on me now and want to get paid for the first time since we’ve known each other?”

    “Well, I’ve already got a job maintaining the comm network for Kaon and the crypt.”

    “I’ll take care of you.”

    “Sounds like a deal!”

    “I’ve got a data plate over there with the beta version of my server shell. Would you double check it for me? We especially need to make sure that no one can actually close out a session since, my own music collection aside, none of it may be replaceable. It would also be nice if they didn’t understand that they were reading over someone else’s shoulder.”

    “What about fees from the sessions? I remember getting charged for stuff like this.”

    “I’ve tried to make sure those are accounted for. Besides, when I start getting bills from some automated system it will be a new place to start looking for old data.”



    Part 2: Dark Legacy



    Working with Resonance was unusually fun now that Ray didn’t feel so very old. True, he wasn’t exactly young; but, he would still have to live another 70 or 80 thousand vorns before he was even “old” like Alpha Trion had been when they first met. He even fancied that the rest of the team could learn to get along with him now.

    After a while Resonance had to go back to his real job.

    Ray finished up working with the table that had occupied his whole afternoon. Once he’d run it through a series of self checks he turned it off. Cybertron might be flush with energy now, but with no significant power sources it wouldn’t last. He might not live to see another lean time, but he wasn’t taking it for granted like so many others were.

    Still, there is a time and a place for every concern.

    Ray pulled the front gate shut so that he’d have no new visitors for a while. Then he went to the back of the bar area and opened a well concealed trap door. A lift platform rose up and he took it down.

    Far below street level was a hidden space that Cashways had built to hold his most prized possession and keep it safe from prying eyes: his energon centrifuge, a now illegal devise capable of enriching the resonance signature of energon from planetary average down to the level of even deep space. It even worked with energon exhibiting stellar or plasma levels of resonance too ... which was good because that was most of what Cybertron had these days. Harsh stuff like that would make his business all the more successful.

    But Cashways had hidden other treasures down here too.

    Right now the centrifuge was quietly humming away producing what would be Cashways’ stock and trade once he opened up shop. He wasn’t yet interested in either it or the disassembled and carefully stored vehicles present — if Cashways’ own sky cruiser or a racing green Scatterway CT95 that he’d somehow come across. There was also Cashways’ own private library, but that wasn’t what Ray wanted just now.

    What he wanted was sitting on a table that normally served as workspace in support of the centrifuge.

    A small and seemingly harmless waitdrone.

    Ray had already carefully disassembled it and placed it within an isolation chamber he’d cobbled together. It’s carefully laid out circuits were all connected ... and intact.

    What a sentimental idiot Cashways had been!

    He had several waitdrones in the old days, but this one had always been a pet of sorts. He called it “Stupid” even though he had upgraded it considerably so that it was hardly stupid anymore. But that didn’t mean that Stupid didn’t turn on Cashways once the sleeper plague erupted. Somehow his old friend had managed to deactivate Stupid without damaging it. He had drained Stupid of all energy and stored it down here. If it hadn’t been for Caris getting caught in the middle of a big battle, Cashways probably would have lived and tried to safely reactivate the drone at some point.

    The instruments on the isolation chamber revealed the waitdrone’s condition: fully charged and restrained, both physically and comm-wise. Everything was ready. Still, Ray rechecked the firewalls on the data core he’d attached to Stupid earlier before turning the drone on.

    It’s eyes became a soft violet color. It tried to turn its head but when that failed it looked around. The eyes stopped when they seemed to find Quintus Ray.

    Master Quintus Ray, how are you doing?” Stupid asked out loud.

    “I’m fine, Stupid.” Ray absent mindedly parroted the virtual himself that Stupid was interacting with.

    It turned out that he’d been right: either Cashways had somehow negated the Quintessons’ programming or else Stupid knew how to lie if lying got the job done.

    I seem to be unable to move and my internal status data shows that I have been disassembled. Why is this so, Master Quintus Ray?

    “I’m conducting system repairs on your frame.” would’ve been the VR program’s response.

    Had Cashways really been able to negate the Quintessons’ programming? It seemed unlikely. Though even if he did, he would have probably still left Stupid down here since its type were a kind of illegal that even scofflaws like Ray respected.

    Well ... unless given adequate cause otherwise.

    Master Cashways had informed me that other drones were acting up so he was going to deactivate me for a time.

    Apparently Ray’s virtual counterpart had asked what had happened before Stupid had been deactivated.

    Ray waited while his virtual counterpart was supposed to be reassembling the drone, he would know soon enough.

    Thank you for restoring me to full function, Master Quintus Ray. . . . Yes, I would like to return to my duties. . . . Master Cashways?. . . You are the one who activated me.

    Ray bid his time. They would be leaving the basement soon and emerging into a restored Cashways’ above. There were several patrons. One of Ray’s Mark-17s would be sitting there within easy reach.

    Your confusion is understandable.” Stupid’s eyes gained unexpected life, “Please let me explain it to you: Die, Autobot! Die! Now is the time–

    Ray took his finger off of the kill switch.

    Stupid had only tried to transmit and propagate the sleeper virus once it was attacking.

    Another kill switch and the now corrupted data core became inactive. Had he succeeded in trapping a copy? He hoped so.

    It would also seem that the drone was still a ticking time bomb.

    How many others were there? Broken and respectful till they had their chance. How annoying! To have to search the whole planet.

    Again....

    He was going to discover this power for himself. Too many people had died suppressing it the first time around to let their sacrifices be in vain.

    But Ray had advantages now that they had lacked back then.

    Stupid was one. Knowledge and experience were two more. But possibly the most important was the fact that the Quintessons had moved on to bigger and better schemes — they wouldn’t be watching closely and might not notice his curiosity as a result.

    There was also complementary data to be gathered about the so-called hate plague, both in terms of societal effects and any possible research before it had been released on Earth. It would be something to find out that the Quintessons had been responsible for both.

    The only question was: how best to proceed?

    Ray carefully drained Stupid down again to prevent its accidental reactivation. Then he did the same with the data core.

    At times like this, in the bad old days when he was only Quin, he would do something to keep his chassis busy while letting his mind wander. It had always been a good way to help him clear out the micromite webs and retune with real priorities. Would it still work? It should, just like knowing how to fight without the benefit of a combat computer let you watch your own flanks or plot strategy when you were using one. The dagger of awareness ... was he really ready to take up its mastery again?

    “I guess I’ll never know if I don’t try, eh, Stupid?”

    He turned to the Scatterway. It shouldn’t be impossible to rebuild and tune properly even without instructions.

    Besides, it had been ages since he’d taken to the skies on a runabout.
     
  9. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Part 3: Clear Black Sky



    “Do you ever stop?”

    “Hey, Resonance!”

    Resonance was looking around the corner into the alley behind Cashways.

    “I thought you would be working on the library. What is that thing?”

    “This,” Ray proudly patted the runabout, “is a Scatterway CT95. A form of sky cruiser from the days before we, well, you were transformers.”

    Resonance came forward and inspected the machine that was currently 82% complete.

    “I’ve seen these before. I think. It flies?”

    “For me it will. Once I’ve got its engine tuned and aerodynamic shell functioning.”

    “Neat! What’s its performance envelope?”

    Ray happily complied with estimates that shouldn’t be too far off.

    Watching Resonance nod thoughtfully, he couldn’t help but think that his fellow Autobot was looking at the runabout like it could be taken to Vector Sigma — the habit of looking at unliving machines as potential people was that deeply etched into his race. As it was, genuine drones had only become popular again because war had reduced the work force so very drastically. Time would tell if they remained so.

    Someday, someone might just decide that Earth’s machines should be alive too. What would become of the humans then? What place would there even be for them?

    “You’re drifting away from me.” Resonance said in Cybertronian.

    Ray snapped back to attention, glad that his mind’s dagger had pulled back from that subject before piercing it too far.

    “Some work is work and some work is fun.”

    “You don’t keep regular time?” he continued to speak the old language.

    “What is time to us?” Ray transitioned too.

    Resonance sighed: “If you’re gonna get philosophical I’ll just leave you to it. I’ve got code to check.”

    “I’ll be in after I finish up here.”

    As always, Resonance would be his useful self. Ray could finally teach him indirect techniques for gathering intelligence that had always been just out of reach before. At the same time he would be quietly gathering information in support of his own pet projects. Quintus Ray, the spy, was definitely in retirement and running a street library in Kaon. But that didn’t mean he had actually retired.

    Instead, he could quietly safeguard Cybertron’s future while seemingly trying to restore her past. He could search all over the planet looking for repairable drones to destroy and old sky cruisers to restore at the same time. Two or more purposes for everything.

    Of course, other people might have different plans. Starscream wanted him to manage the time travel caper. Clearly there was no one else the Decepticon could trust like he could Ray, given how they both benefited from their mutual arrangement. Jazz too might want him involved and had hinted that the Autobots could use a spy master. So staying ‘retired’ might be troublesome.

    Especially since he’d already let it be known that he wasn’t old.

    He wondered if Kup had learned about his return yet? How was the “old soldier” responding if he had?

    Ray leaned back against the wall and sighed deeply. He reasoned that he’d finally remembered what had driven the wedge between his only surviving son and himself: he had made Kup pay off his chassis. What the government and the Decepticons were doing was simply lawless and neither had the right to interfere with a private contract. Especially one as important as family. Kup’s sister and brothers had understood.... So why hadn’t Kup?

    In all fairness, Kup might not even remember why he was so angry with his father. He might not even remember that Ray was his father at all. Ultra Magnus and Prime certainly didn’t seem to remember that Alpha Trion was theirs. Sons without a father and fathers without sons.... Sometimes letting your mind wander took you to places you didn’t want to go even if you had to go there just the same.

    Ray picked up his tools and finished rebuilding the Scatterway.






    The repulsor engine was running rough on the available energon. But at sparks-three and just over twice the speed of sound it was hardly the time or place to be rebuilding the engine. It would probably require refined energon to get the machine really running right.

    Cybertron’s faint grey haze had given way to ebon black littered with stars that now shone brightly with no hint of twinkle. Far to the north the delicate yellow glow of distant Sol rimmed a crescent of light and cast the rest into a dark deep enough to match the night sky above. Traces of tiny lights like little stars were all that was left of a once brilliantly lit world.

    Ray heard the whine of plasma based engines long before he caught sight of the red and blue running lights from Starscream’s wings. The Decepticon pulled into formation with him and said nothing.

    “It seems that our energon isn’t of the best quality.” Ray finally observed in Cybertronian through the comm link.

    “I’ve noticed much the same.” Starscream was still using English, “Spark containment will be most drastically affected. Possibly reducing longevity by as much as 12% for 300 series spark containment and later. You’re in the clear. As am I due to some design changes made for purpose-built Seekers.”

    “There are work arounds.” Ray was thinking of an industrial scale application of Cashways’ small centrifuge.

    “I’m thinking a phase shifting protocol might work.” Starscream suggested, “Maybe blended with better energy from Earth.”

    “A dual reserve system?”

    “Premix.”

    They flew on for several minutes in silence.

    “Is that the best that thing will do?” Starscream taunted.

    “First shake down flights are iffy propositions with no back up.”

    “Your point being?” Screamer asked, finally in his native speech.

    Ray gunned the throttle and adjusted the trim as the Scatterway accelerated. Serious buffeting from the aerodynamic shell hit just as he passed 3.5 times the speed of sound. He had wanted to rise to sparks-five to help alleviate the problem but the engine issues wouldn’t let him go any higher than sparks-four.

    The sounds the engine was making spelled serious problems if he continued to push the envelope.

    “How do you manage buffeting with that primitive shape?” he asked Starscream as they slowed and turned back towards Caris.

    “The F-15 wasn’t meant for this performance envelope any more than its replacements were. Fleshling pilots simply can’t take the stresses involved for real maneuver either. But that’s the difference between a living machine and a mere piloted vehicle. You know, that antique would make a nice alternate form for you.”

    “I’m holding out for a late model Vectorhawk with a variable aspect aerodynamic shell.” Ray wasn’t even half serious — if he could find one of those he’d have no need to become a transformer himself.

    Starscream laughed in a somewhat more sane way than his usual fare.

    “You could hard mount your Mark-17s.” the jet suggested after a while.

    It wasn’t a bad suggestion. Tied into his own power systems like Starscream’s null rays, the weapons would be able to be fired more than five times on a charge. Ray might even gain some incremental benefit from their tiny power maximizers. But that didn’t negate the PR issues that could result from being so intimately associated with two smaller versions of the same fusion technology that had made Megatron or the Nemesis so fearsome. Autobots cringed when they heard that sound. An aversion that couldn’t possibly do Ray’s already troubled reputation any good.

    “Maybe.”

    “Have you really retired?” Starscream asked after a while.

    Ray filled him in on some of what he hoped to achieve with Cashways’. While he wasn’t going to let Starscream know what he was really doing, it made no sense to keep the Seeker totally in the dark. Had he done so, Starscream’s curiosity might have led the suspicious mech to discover some of what was really going on. If, for the sake of plausible deniability, he wasn’t going to tell Jazz there was no way he’d ever tolerate Starscream being in the know.

    He finished up his short description as they closed the distance to Caris.

    “Interesting.” Starscream chimed as they landed in the street in front of the library.

    The few fellow Autobots who were present really took notice when Ray and Starscream landed together. Ray could almost feel their glares. He didn’t let on that it bothered him, only set the runabout’s landing gear and turned off the engine without comment.

    “Who have you recruited to help you get this place going?” Starscream asked as if he might be interested in helping too.

    “A comm specialist from my old team. You wouldn’t know him except by reputation.”

    “Well, it’s good that you aren’t doing this alone. If you ever want to open franchises, I know of a few other establishments like this that physically survived the war.”

    “No archives?”

    Starscream shook his head: “Even the once secure Autobot archive in Polyhex is missing. It happened sometime before we were revived on Earth. It’s a pity,” Starscream had changed back to English and raised his voice to be heard by those roundabout, “it was once the best on all of Cybertron. The one place you could have read about the true history of the Primes, all the way back to Omega Prime himself!”

    Starscream jumped into the sky, transformed, and lifted off.

    Ray shook his head in disgust. The Decepticon was intentionally messing with the Autobots present and undermining Ray’s own status just to gloat over a point of lost history.

    “Why did it have to be Starscream? Why not Shockwave? Or even Soundwave?” he muttered as he entered the library.

    “How should I feel about you actually knowing Soundwave and Shockwave?” Resonance demanded.

    “Artemus the Magnificent had many sons.” Ray shrugged, “Only five of us were Autobots.”

    “And Starscream?”

    “Is just a self-absorbed jerk I know.... Resonance, would you believe me if I told you that very intelligent people will have trusted folks they know they should’ve never trusted, given the benefits of hindsight. It isn’t just me either. We all somehow overlooked the simple fact that Starscream was all about Starscream and nothing or no one else. Even when we found him drifting through space after the mission that saw Skyfire go missing we didn’t notice. It’s the sorta thing that can seriously undermine your self confidence.”

    “So why Starscream?”

    “‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’” he quoted a human truism he’d heard from Jazz.

    “What about ‘Omega Prime?’”

    Ray felt the tightening again.

    “I guess you can use memory as a weapon even when you can’t use it as an elixir.”

    “There really was an ‘Omega Prime?’”

    Ray nodded.

    Nodding was much easier than talking.

    He had no idea why Starscream had even brought up the Polyhex archive. Maybe it had to do with Swoop’s little discovery. Was he wanting Ray’s world to fall apart again? Or was he pointing him in another direction?

    One thing was sure, whatever issues or ambitions Starscream had, Swoop’s archive presented the same sort of challenge no matter who you were.

    Ray placed a data barrier against that line of speculation and locked the thoughts away till he was ready to deal with them.

    “So, are any other sons of Artemus on our side?”

    Ray smiled and nodded.
     
  10. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Part 4: Dire Intentions



    Starscream’s afterburners pulsed.

    Up ahead the ruins of the Decepticon War College awaited along with his Autodolt handlers.

    At least for the moment he was free!

    He suppressed the urge to start his own little war. Even if his enemies had little idea just how much damage he could do on a world where energon was so freely available, there was still the matter of his mission.

    As genuinely laudable as Ray’s efforts to fight for everything Cybertron were, it was intolerable that he wasn’t doing what Starscream needed him to be doing!

    Why didn’t his fellow Seeker understand?

    Megatron had somehow caused all of this! Intentionally!!!

    Cybertron only seemed desperate before that fateful trip to Earth. Under Ratbat’s watchful gaze the Decepticons had been carefully skimming off the top wherever Autobots weren’t watching too closely and had amassed considerable reserves — all hidden in shielded caches deep underground. Shockwave’s war planning committee had called it a “war against subsistence.” So even while much of the planet had slept or been subdued, Shockwave had never lacked in their absence. Once Megatron had returned and the Autobots abandoned the planet for Earth, all that energon helped to power the Decepticon Renaissance.

    Until Unicron showed up.

    It burned Starscream’s circuits to imagine how different things might have been had they just taken the planet first and worried about some new source of energy later!

    Four million wasted solar cycles!

    His guards, the Aerialbots, were falling in formation with him and for once Starscream was glad that his handsome features were hidden in this form. It wouldn’t do to have them see the look of utter contempt that his face wore just now.

    Ray would have to learn that his priorities as a Seeker came first! After they had learned what they could from the past then, and only then, would Starscream willingly help his companion shatter the ill considered cultural bonds between their people and the fleshlings. Even Autobots didn’t deserve to be burdened with such ‘friends.’

    “You’re quiet for a change.” Autobot Silverbolt observed.

    “Just digesting my observational data from the runabout’s high speed trial.”

    Confronting Ray with the fact of Polyhex’ missing archive had been a calculated risk. Hopefully it would limit his plans to Cashways’ and other mundane concerns in the short term.

    “If you wanted to help your friend with his toy, why leave us out?” Autobot Silverbolt countered, “One chase plane can’t cover every angle.”

    “My ‘friend’ would have gladly shot me out of the sky just a few solar cycles ago.” Starscream acted as if he were defending Ray’s loyalties.

    Three of the Aerialbots grumbled. Excellent! They weren’t even bothering to hide their true feelings!

    “Besides that, weren’t we a little too high for you, Silverbolt?”

    As they came in for a landing, Starscream marveled at how fickle and sentimental Autobots were. He had no illusions about how his fellow Decepticons felt about him: they should and did fear his brilliance and ruthlessness! Yet Ray had not only been loyal to the Autobot cause, he had also been singularly effective too. He was willing to bring war to Cybertron for their sakes. And they questioned him? Idiots!

    He hid his smirk as he assumed mech form — the Autodolts would drive Ray out from their midst and into his’ and Shockwave’s waiting arms. Like all Seekers, Ray understood that Cybertron came first. It had been drilled into his core processes long ago. So what if Ray still believed that other worlds should benefit from the exchange? Ultimately he too would admit that they only mattered for how they might benefit Cybertron.

    “You seem happy.” Autobot Air Raid observed.

    Without elaboration, Starscream informed them of what Ray was hoping to do with Cashways’. He couched it in terms that they would find agreeable and was pleased to see their interest in things Cybertronian.

    “It sounds like a noble effort. So why are you interested?” Autobot Slingshot accused.

    “It’s my heritage too!” his eyes narrowed dangerously, “Didn’t you clods go to the past yourselves? How could you have missed out on the chance to see a world alive on its own terms? Free of the mitestrands of so-called human culture?”

    Their expressions told the whole story. Even now they were little better than just-boots. They had never even considered that they had a culture of their own.

    Starscream decided to change his tactics. Once upon a time the Aerialbots had wavered in their loyalty to the Autobot cause and their belief in Prime’s ability as a commander. Could they be made to at least question Optimus’ wisdom and fitness to lead them as a people? Whatever it was that they had experienced in the past had ended any chance of them following him; but, that didn’t mean they couldn’t choose another Autobot in Prime’s stead.

    Or another Seeker.

    “Blast it! You just-boots almost make me regret saying that....” Starscream made a show of frowning, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. It can’t be your fault if, being created to charge into battle, you didn’t get told about the wealth of your own heritage.”

    “I’m not buying what you’re selling.”

    “I didn’t mean it that way, Silverbolt. I was built to charge into battle too. The difference is when we were built and not why we were built. Really, the comparison is telling. You were made and left ignorant. We at least tried to tell the Stunticons but they, boorish lack-wits to a mech, seemed to think it all unimportant. Advantage: Aerialbots!”

    The right blend of hostility, contempt and pity seemed to be having the desired effect.

    “Have you ever spoken your own language?” Starscream asked them in Cybertron.

    So what if Ray officially outranked him? An S-1 surely deserved subordinates of his own and these could fit the bill. It was at least possible that confused loyalties might make them less reliable allies for Prime.

    As they entered the one structure that had been restored from out of all of the once impressive campus, Starscream found himself wishing that he could tell the Aerialbots about the true purpose and history of this place. It was a shame to leave such potentially useful information unmanipulated.
     
  11. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Part 5: Briefing



    “With respect to Quintus Ray, on the basis of the data and observations that Resonance and others have provided,” Perceptor continued without pause after having laid and built on — at considerable length — the groundwork for how the recent revelations could explain much about the Decepticons, “it would seem that the legal loop-hole that he is exploiting is a valid coping mechanism. Of particular interest to us at this time is the change in the dynamic of our fellow Autobot’s personality now that he seems able to remember his own past better; however, his apparent inability to talk about so many important issues with other Autobots is a matter of a particular concern. As you can see from the brief I provided, I have defined 32 different psychological and core logic parameters in which this inability can cause stress. I should make it clear that this list is preliminary and that it will grow longer in time. In the short term there is certainly no need for concern; but, in the long term these may lead to erratic behavior — though I am not yet convinced that any potential issues could equal the problems that arose from Quintus Ray NOT being able to remember so much of his own past. I might add that Quintus Ray himself is clearly focusing his own efforts on expanding the scope and stability of this coping mechanism with his efforts in Caris.”

    Jazz glanced at Perceptor’s ‘brief’ that he was expected to read — somehow the data plate felt heavier just for containing the file. Normally he would’ve tuned Mister Word Cannon out and waited for the condensed version that his subprocessors were compiling, but this time it was about a friend.

    A few sidelong glances revealed a lot about the others present: Prime was focused; Elita One seemed occasionally distracted; Blaster was nodding thoughtfully while waiting for Perceptor to say something important enough to warrant keeping Resonance in Kaon; Kup, who had snuck back from Nebulos on a shuttle, seemed unusually grim; and First Aid looked down right uncomfortable. Kup aside, they had all come here because of the seriousness of the meeting’s agenda, of which Ray’s situation was only the 9th of 9 discussion topics.

    The moment of silence stretched out.

    One of the problems with Perceptor was the way his speeches came without brake lights. You never knew exactly when he would want to give folks a chance to get a word in edgewise. Somehow, Jazz mused, saying “Hey, that’s neat-o!” just didn’t fit this situation no matter how much he wanted to say it.

    “What about Starscream’s apparent interest in Ray’s project?” Prime broke the silence.

    “The effort to revive Cybertron’s culture would benefit Decepticons too. While I’m dubious about the survival of a comprehensive Autobot archive in Polyhex into the recent past — it was the focal point for early Decepticon victories after all — I cannot dispute that both Quintus Ray and Starscream understand that such an archive existed at some point. Further, the mention of an Omega Prime, a Prime unknown in our historical accounts, may point to the possibility that this archive was also associated with the Primal lineage. As such, its loss may be especially telling. What I find compelling about Starscream’s comment is the suggestion that the archive may not have only contradicted the public record that we have, but that its disappearance was for reasons and by means unknown to Shockwave, who was the tyrant over Cybertron at the time. I find it disturbing to consider that there may be a third party operating on Cybertron whose implied motive is to throw the rest of us into cultural and historical ignorance. Still, there is no denying that our public records do not account for certain infamous facts on the ground that we have been forced to face of late. The revelation that the Combaticon Artemus came on line not quite 57,600,000 solar cycles ago is especially irksome—”

    Jazz blinked hard. Did Perceptor actually use the word ‘irksome?!’ He was pushing past the bounds of cheesy and into lampoon-yourself-land.

    “—in light of what Quintus Ray was able to tell us about the operation of the Combaticon crypt. It would seem that Artemus should have been interred several levels deeper, at the level of our current efforts, but he was instead placed higher up so that those who served under him could be placed with him. Since the actual depth of the crypt is a matter for conjecture, this could substantially alter our perceptions of Cybertron’s past when all is said and done.”

    “Speaking of Artemus the Magnificent,” Kup was looking at First Aid, “have you been able to determine anything about his chassis? Could he have actually lived more than 590,000 vorns?”

    “I can’t even begin to confirm such a claim. Not only would tearing into his chassis be disrespectful, but it could also be dangerous.”

    “And not just because of the roof.” Perceptor interjected.

    First Aid shifted about uncomfortably: “I remember Ratchet telling me that certain kinds of spark containment, which he associated with Decepticons, were especially robust. He ... didn’t get a chance to teach me more. That could account for unusual longevity. As for the quality of the chassis, from what I’ve seen it’s simply superb — a work of martial art.”

    “We aren’t bowing to you yet, ‘prince of Cybertron!’” Elita One prodded Kup in good fun.

    “That’s not what I meant!” Kup grumbled.

    “Jazz?” Optimus turned to him.

    “He’s protecting us. Sooner or later Starscream will return to the Deciptigoons. I guess we now know how they put up with him this long! I think Ray’s bummed to think someone may hesitate to take Screamer down because of what it might do to him. That’s why he’s retiring the way he is. Short of jumping the fence it’s the best he can do. At least we know he can still find refuge with Big Daddy Artemus.”

    Prime nodded: “Anything more about our artifact?”

    “Megabum set us up, Prime. Set us up real good! I understand Screamer’s care. By all rights Megs set them up too. Worse than us. I’m not sure this isn’t part of some long term power play, but I gotta ask it too: how did a world with two moons and that much energon become the Earth we know and love? It just doesn’t jive. It’s ‘irksome.’”

    “So you would recommend that we try to use the Kronosphere.” Perceptor leaned forward.

    “You got another Tardis laying around?” Jazz smiled coolly, “As for Cashways’, I think you’re blowin’ it outta proportion. The Quin I knew always loved old-school. He may be as sneaky as sneaky gets, maybe part of being a lawyer, but he needs no other reason to open up than that. He thinks he’s found something we lost and I’m cool with that. If I found anything ‘especially irksome’ it would be that your third party is laying down tracks for the Quints. And he’s able to cover for them too.”

    “Prime, do you think you could contact the old wizard?”

    “If he or Vector Sigma wants it or not, I may have to, Elita. Perceptor, what difficulties do we face with the Kronosphere? Do we have to rely on Starscream’s ‘gift’ or can we restore it and send someone else?”






    “Hey, you heading back to Nebulos already?”

    Kup turned: “The Hive turned out to be more resourceful than we figured. Even if the Decepticons haven’t been seen on—”

    “But what about Ray?”

    “Hot Rod is helpless without me.”

    “Want to borrow the Dinobots?” Jazz smiled broadly.

    “Want a punch in the kisser?”

    What was with Kup? He had war stories to cover every contingency but this one?

    “He’s my friend.”

    “He’s not mine.”

    “We can’t choose our family.” Jazz pointed out.

    “I know you mean well.” Kup laid an index finger against Jazz’ chest, “But my job isn’t in Kaon.”

    Kup turned away and took several steps before turning back.

    “You know what kind of place Cashways’ was? Right? It wasn’t just a street library. You want to know what’s up with Quintus Ray: he’s a scofflaw. He acts like Cybertron’s got no government worth respecting. For all I know he may even believe that the Decepticons have a better claim to legitimacy than we do. I fought in countless battles for a Cybertron that he doesn’t even believe in. Maybe he’ll come around now that he can remember better, but that’s his own lookout.”

    Jazz watched Kup walk away.

    “Damn, man!”

    He was just glad that he’d never fallen out with his mother, Primus protect her spark! For some reason, maybe it was just an illusion of war, his people seemed to be real good at holding grudges.
     
  12. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Part 6: Data



    Jazz didn’t wait to watch Kup’s shuttle leave.

    He wanted to be in Kaon. Even though Blaster was paranoid about Decepticon doings on Earth and anxious to return to his normal post, there was too much happening here on Cybertron for Jazz to return to Autobot City with him.

    And it didn’t feel right holding clandestine meetings about Ray even if Ray was only the last item on the agenda.

    In one sense it really would have been better had it been either Shockwave or Soundwave, if only because they weren’t Screamer. Then there was what Kup had felt the pressing need to point out: Ray had referred to Shockwave as if he were still alive. Could Shockwave still be alive and somewhere on Cybertron? Maybe in Kaon? Did Ray know for sure?

    “Good thing you’ve never used those pistols of yours in combat!” Jazz laughed as he set out for the nearest functional transit tube.

    Whatever was going on, if anything important was happening, Ray would respect his space until he had a real need to know.






    Cashways’ looked a lot nicer than it did the last time he’d seen it. The paint spoke of cheerful wisdom, the sort of place you could relax during your down megacycles and do whatever wasn’t productive. The store front was cordoned off behind a “Closed for Repairs” partition that partly obscured the disarray within.

    At a glance he could tell that the three days that had passed since Ray’s encounter with Screamer hadn’t been unproductive.

    Jazz pushed past the partition and looked around.

    The place was empty and the Scatterway was sitting over by the bar area.

    “This is what I get for dropping by unannounced!”

    With nothing else to do, Jazz decided to check out Ray’s new ride. His mom had once had something almost this nice.... She’d been like Ray: a real prude. He laughed to remember her that way.

    Was that why he’d always looked up to this wild mech who appeared from no where and who seemed like he could do anything?

    Ray was a Seeker....

    Jazz had grown to hate the term. It was like Screamer said, he just didn’t have his normal sense of humor around Decepticons, and especially Seekers. Seekers killed his friends. They forced him from the skies and spoilt the scenery. Seekers were bad news.

    But he’d seen that black badge of Ray’s before.

    “Remembering?”

    Ray was somehow standing behind the bar. One sneaky-Seeker-lawyer!

    “Did you know her?”

    “Her?”

    “Techna.”

    Ray’s face got a distant look for just a moment.

    “I think we may have met.”

    “Is there anyone you don’t know?”

    “Cybertron’s a much smaller place than it used to be. Now you really can know everyone.”

    He didn’t say it was “sad” ... he didn’t need too. You could see it in his listless expression.

    “The kid’s been reporting in.”

    “Hey! What about plausible deniability?”

    “The big meeting’s done. They’re worried.”

    “They should be.” Ray dropped a data plate on the counter and slid it over.

    Jazz picked it up. Spies wrote better reports than scientist! None of that five words when two would do guff. It was an analysis, a sketch really, of programming. Very complex and subtle.

    “This is?”

    “Sleeper plague. Symbolic fragments anyway. A self-regenerating self-propagating virus that can burrow under code and look harmless, necessary even, until it gets let out. Only living processors are immune.”

    “Damn, man.”

    “Interesting human term.” Ray allowed, “I’m not sure how it applies to drones though.”

    “We hunted these things down. Even the ‘cons helped!”

    “Cybertron’s a big place. Big and deep.”

    “Big Daddy’s place?”

    Ray’s expression became quizzical before he shook his head no. Not the crypt then?

    “I’m going to train Resonance in some indirect snooping techniques. I figure a good place to start is Earth’s internet because the humans are so oblivious to basic security — they practically scream at each other for all the worlds to see. The problem is defining the parameters: I don’t know them and I’m not taking it for granted that I’ll have all the time on Cybertron to see the job done. I want to learn about the hate plague and also track its spread with the one reliable communication tool that it couldn’t propagate itself by.”

    “You think the Quints were responsible for both?”

    “I don’t know.... You feel like going to school again? I can’t do this quick without you.”

    “Why not ask?”

    “Asking doesn’t always get you the same kind of information. I’ve done a preliminary web search using their own engines and found that humans are at least aware of the basic principals of data mining and counter strategies, just enough so to really make them vulnerable. Overall, Earth is a great place to learn the trade.”

    “They’re our allies.” Jazz spelled it out in very specific terms.

    “They’re also at risk. Even worse than we are.”

    “How so?”

    “The junk they had when you first met them was so primitive that, with a few exceptions, it would’ve been immune to the sleeper plague. But a lot of what they have today is more than good enough to host the thing. Along with my web search I’ve performed an appraisal of their infrastructure and industrial base: most of them are totally dependent on technology in ways contrary to their basic nature. Unlike us, humans are in the unenviable position of no longer being able to cope with their environment apart from something they made. Also, the drones that they use are more capable of physically harming them than ours were us.”

    “Is that all?” Jazz was appalled.

    “I’m not sure this plague could bridge over to a human core processor by way of the cybernetic implants that they use. I don’t think it could. But if it did there would likely be no cure.... Jazz, this isn’t something they need to worry about if they don’t have to. If we can isolate and learn to defend against it then they can be protected without ever knowing. Besides that, the technique I’m talking about only depends on publicly available data.”

    “Well, since you asked me so proper-like....”






    Jazz had been in Kaon’s underground with Ray before; but, this was the first time he’d ever seen anything like this place. It was a ginormous maze of pitfalls and paths that went on and on. It had been an Autobot training grounds for some conflict before the Great War but after the Quints got the boot. Ray couldn’t seem to say more than that. Thanks to Resonance’s persistence, he at least knew that they’d “not really been fighting Decepticons.” Also, the ‘cons knew about it and had maybe used it too.

    “Unicron’s kick was probably aimed at Maximus.” Ray finally allowed, “So the crypt took the worst of it and left this place intact.”

    “Why would he target Maximus?”

    “Sheer spite. I think Unicron’s the kind that holds a grudge.”

    “Good thing he’s dead.” Resonance observed.

    Jazz grimaced. Unicron’s not-quite-dead status was a closely guarded secret. He understood why Rodimus had made that call, but even then it was still messed up.

    They were in a security office of sorts underneath a large platform near the middle of the maze. Ray had converted it into a comm hub with a mishmash of salvaged parts. Talk about chutzpah! Hiding in a place like this....

    During the previous four days, while they had still been working together to restore Cashways’, Ray had presented an overview of statistical analysis methods that had been perfected by Cybertron’s law enforcement services in cooperation with the military. Jazz had found no joy in Ray’s frequent use of terms like “tedium” and “slogging work.” Statistical analysis at this level had never been Jazz’ cup of tea. Waaaaay to boring!

    Also, he just didn’t see how Ray’s methods could be used on the internet. The data collection aspects seemed to be so hardware intensive that there was no way they could run undetected, much like the search engines that were already in common use. Maybe they would work in a true wireless world where you could listen in on unencoded transmissions, the way the Earth was before he and the others woke up on the Ark; but, in the security conscious wired world that was Earth now it didn’t look functional. Also, they lacked the sheer ground presence to intercept Earth’s encoded wireless network.

    “Good, now that we have some real privacy,” Ray motioned for them to take a seat, “it’s time to tell you how this really works. We’ll be running a distributed network that will take three different forms: a locally distributed hub of more of less conventional nature, a large collection of automaton agents similar in some respects to those employed by humans, and a smaller collection of automaton counter agents for security.”

    “How will that be undetectable? It sounds like what we’ve got now.”

    “In a way, it is similar. But the difference is the nature of the agents we’ll be employing. Let me show you what these agents are actually like.”

    Ray sat down at the main terminal and began entering a complex set of parameters. He used odd terminology to explain what he was doing, not whangdoodle like Blaster would spout but engineering and medical terms. It was like listening to a lecture hosted by Wheeljack and Ratchet instead, only one covering a topic they barely understood. Which meant Ray knew how to do this but not necessarily why it could be done this way.

    After entering all the data he produced a power cell and plugged it into the terminal.

    Then something happened and the power cell started sending status data back to the hideout’s computron.

    “What did we just see?”

    “On Earth, we will establish a distributed physical data hub where the data transmission is happening through power lines. We have to use those because so much of Earth’s comm system is low power, and we need power to create our agents. We will use that hub to spawn the agents which will then be able to transition anywhere in the internet, even into wireless networks.”

    “You didn’t answer me.” Jazz felt the need to say it plain.

    “The agents are simple free existing constructs of energy that are self-contained.”

    Jazz felt alarms go off.

    “These are programmed to search out for specific kinds of data as an above stream observer of the data network rather than as an instream participant. One type to look for our information and another type to look for similar agents or security systems like hardware based firewalls.”

    A wave of relief ... not another Kremzeek disaster!

    “The second type are also equipped to regulate and guide the others and help keep the entire effort secret. The operational life of agents in a low power situation like this is dependent on the initial energization since they cannot draw power from so much of their environment.”

    Ray continued to describe the functions and capabilities of these little automatons made from energy at length. Except for their nature and elegance, they operated exactly as other such ‘web-bots’ did. It was fascinating stuff, but the way it kept reminding Jazz of Wheeljack and Ratchet was making him more and more uneasy. What could be disconcerting about free existing constructs of– “Stop!”

    “Jazz?”

    “Are these agents of yours intelligent?”

    “Not really. They have rudimentary–”

    “So they do have some smarts to do what they’re supposed to do?”

    “Sure. So does a–”

    “Are they really ‘free existing?’”

    “No, there’s a built in limiter for how long one will function even when it can draw power from its environment–”

    “Without which they could persist as ‘free existing’ entities?”

    “I suppose.”

    Jazz rubbed the side of his head.

    “Is something wrong?” Resonance sounded concerned.

    “It’s how this jive reminds me of some of the talks Wheeljack and Ratchet used to give when they were working up to the Dinobots. Ray, are these things sparks?”

    Ray blinked hard: “Jazz ... no! No, they aren’t. I’ll be up front with you, I used to know a doctor who used agents like these as part of her research into spark containment design. She even managed to summon dim sparks with a vastly more complex version of what we’re using here. But this isn’t a spark at all. Even her super-duper version only summoned the spark, it didn’t create it. If it helps, I remember asking her the exact same questions myself.”

    “‘Dim sparks?’”

    “I’m not even remotely sure about the difference between a dim spark and bright sparks like ourselves. I had apparently known a few mechs who had dim sparks for thousands of vorns, and until she mentioned it I had never noticed any difference. Same with afterwards when I knew about them.”

    “Quin, could these be developed into something like Vector Sigma?” Resonance pressed.

    Ray shook his head.

    “But techniques like this can ‘summon’ sparks like us?”

    “I’m not that smart.” he shrugged.

    Jazz nodded: “So why don’t we get this show on the road?”
     
  13. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Part 7: Expedition



    Autobot Skydive returned and reported that Quin had last been seen several days ago after locking up Cashways’.

    “He’s probably gone off on his own to find some old cache of files.” Starscream cheerfully informed, “Remember: he was left alone down here in Kaon for a long time.”

    Autobot Slingshot frowned and clinched his fist several times. The hot head didn’t like being reminded by a Decepticon that Ray might’ve been mistreated in the past. It wasn’t that he cared if some other Autobot stated the facts, since that would only be someone stating the facts, but his temper seemed to flare whenever Starscream mentioned it. Or maybe he was still nursing a grudge about that other time?

    Either way, it was fun to poke and prod.

    In contrast, Autobots Air Raid and Skydive had as much adopted Ray as a best buddy they’d yet to meet.

    “I guess we need to go back?” Autobot Silverbolt sighed.

    “You came here to learn and be entertained.”

    “We aren’t breaking and entering!”

    “Who said that’s what I had in mind? No, I was only going to suggest that while we’re out anyway, why not see if another venue is available?”

    “What?”

    “There used to be many street libraries like this one. It was hardly unique. If Cashways’ servers survived the war then it stands to reason that others did too. Why not go looking for one of those? Who knows, we may even meet up with Ray.”

    They seemed to think it over.

    “Sure, why not.” Autobot Silverbolt shrugged, “Do you know where any others were?”

    “Of course! There was at least one in any of the small towns whose ruins now litter Kaon. Still, I think the best place to look would be the big city! Provincial towns all catered to similar taste. We might find something better in Kaon proper? Or maybe in Vilnacron?”

    “Yeah, if we did we could hand it over to Quintus Ray and he could use it for his place!” Autobot Air Raid beamed.

    Give it away? The idiot had no idea about the potential value of such a find! Maybe he should have an ‘accident’ before the Aerialbots decided to follow Ray rather than Prime? Ridding the galaxy of Superion would work for Starscream too.

    “Then we definitely need to look in the big city. The difference between Kaon and Vilnacron was life style. Kaon was a dynamic commercial hub like Iacon while Vilnacron was more of a wild party that never quite settled down.”

    “Hey, sounds like the place for young mechs like us!” Autobot Fireflight grinned.

    Absolutely clueless! It was all Starscream could do to keep from laughing.

    As he followed the Aerialbots in formation he absent mindedly let his combat computer scroll its cross hairs across them one after the other.

    He’d lived in Vilnacron for a while during the early days of the war. It had been a nice place with an unusually high concentration of femmes. Most of its inhabitants were either retired Seekers or Autobots who had made their fortunes.

    But where to find an intact street library?

    As the name implied, they usually occupied retail stalls near street level in much larger buildings, most of which were long gone. The arcade and four of five residential districts had been leveled long ago, so it was pointless to search there. The only remaining residential area had been converted into a Polyhexi style prison that had been emptied and scavenged with the collapse of Vilnacron’s last functioning government. The docks and the city’s only industrial sector weren’t completely razed ... so maybe they should look there?

    Or maybe they should try Vilnacron’s ancient seat of government? Even though it had been picked over, it wasn’t too badly torn up. Bureaucrats liked to read as much as anyone else. Possibly even more.

    “Silverbolt, we should go to the domed structure on the north end of town.”

    “The Palace of Gold?”

    He’d actually been reading up when he wasn’t playing prison guard? That could be useful.

    “That’s the place!”






    The “Palace of Gold” was the name given to a structure that dominated Vilnacron’s wartime skyline. That wasn’t its real name, of course, but it was as good as any Starscream knew. It was an octagonal, dome capped structure whose outer surface had once been tiled over with beautiful scenes of life on ancient Cybertron; but, all that had long since been vandalized. Exactly who had vandalized it was yet another mystery that Shockwave had never accounted for.

    Personally, Starscream imagined it must’ve been out-of-town Autobots since they also took the trouble to smash to bits every Combaticon statue that was inside. The locals, former Seekers, or old school Decepticons would never do anything like that! After all, there was a lot of important history to this place. It was a significant source of civic pride too.

    He let his mind drift as the palace came into view. There had been at least one very nice library around here somewhere! He’d used it as a second office during a time when he’d actually sold his services as a barrister. Wait, why did he close those files? They had been part of what he’d told Ray. Interesting....

    Autobot Silverbolt landed near the main entrance of the palace.

    “Why don’t we search inside first?” Starscream pointed to the doorless entrance and the once grand staircase beyond.

    “This place? I thought it had no commercial function?”

    “Well, I’m sure those files of yours are very complete. They even recorded who defaced it, didn’t they?”

    “Let me guess? Something else Shockwave can’t account for.”

    “You make that sound like it’s a bad thing?”

    “So what was it originally like?”

    Starscream looked over the ruined exterior: “Skydive, once this place was ... spectacular! There were these murals....”

    He found that just knowing there had been murals wasn’t enough. In the end all he could tell them was some of the ordinary activities it had shown. Not that he hadn’t played up the limitation and made it seem worse than it was. The Aerialbots already understood that there was some form of memory glitch from what they’d been told about Ray. Seeing him struggle could only have reinforced that truth.






    Starscream kept himself occupied as the Autobots explored the Palace of Gold. They would occasionally ask him questions — which he would only ‘try’ to answer no matter if he actually could or not.

    All the pointless searching actually gave him time to consider his own past with Vilnacron and this place. The surrounding buildings had featured not one, but five courts — if you counted the war tribunals that Megatron established in some of the palace’s halls. Besides these there was the local court for Vilnacron, Cybertron’s own Supreme Court and the central court for Primacronian law.

    As a lawyer he’d only ever done business with the local court and the Decepticon Tribunal.

    The tribunals.... Establishing these had seemed so logical at the time; but, in light of recent revelations, maybe.... Maybe....

    Here, Megatron had hammered a line into the ground and told the powers that be that the Decepticons alone would judge crimes which their partisans committed in the service of the cause. Here, something began that, looking back on it now, should’ve been obvious: Megatron established a nation, no, two nations that would slowly supplant the ... ethnic identity of innumerable Cybertronians.

    Strange to think that a human term would be so suitable to Cybertron. Autobots, Combaticons and Seekers: all ethnic identities in a world that somehow didn’t know about ethnicity in that way. Except for the Predacons, possibly a world that wasn’t supposed to know about ethnicity at all?

    Had Megatron known what he was doing back then? Did he intentionally forge two nations? All the time Starscream had been here in Vilnacron, really on Megatron’s own advice, much of the rest of the planet had taken sides.

    By the time Autobot Silverbolt suggested they look outside, these memories had become a hot fire pressed against his palms: had Megatron somehow set everyone up again for the first time?
     
  14. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Part 8: 103 Miles North East of Itbayat



    The ill planned maze that was Scorponok’s interior was annoying in the extreme to a mind used to order and reason. The Nebulans were worse than humans that way. For being some of their world’s most brilliant minds they were a mixture of disappointment that ran from mild to severe. Not that Soundwave had ever expected much from them: being fleshlings.

    A grand door opened to reveal Galvatron standing alone in his personal command room, taking in the familiar scenery of fish swimming in Earth’s oceans.

    “Welcome Soundwave! How are our projects in Japan going?”

    “Progress is acceptable.... Mighty Galvatron, I’ve found evidence of advanced surveillance techniques being used on Earth.”

    “I’m sure Zarak– Oh! You mean ‘advanced!’” he laughed easily, “Please, tell me more.”

    “The pattern is unmistakably Cybertronian and of a type not known to Autobots.”

    “Your missing heir?” Galvatron’s attention had been officially grabbed.

    “Negative. Analysis of the free existing agents observed suggest that the source is either Combaticon or Seeker.”

    Soundwave let Galvatron glare at him for a long moment till he was sure his commander’s surprise had abated.

    “It was a slight variation on the last standard type used before the war.” he finally informed.

    “Well now! This IS an interesting turn of events!”

    Galvatron turned back towards the ocean view. His reflection showed a mech whose face was radiant with.... With what?

    “How long have these efforts escaped our notice?”

    “Our current surveillance inspection cycle has a ten day window for detecting wide scale data mining aimed at humans. Reducing that window will require reshuffling our priorities.”

    “An annoyance we will just have to put up with. Allow your current projects to proceed without you for the time being. I want to know what on Earth either Combaticons or Seekers would want to know about.”

    “As you wish.”

    “And Soundwave?”

    “Yes, Galvatron?”

    “Please make sure our ally isn’t burdened with concerns about these matters or else find him a suitable part to play if he turns out to be precocious. Hmmmmm?”

    “Yes, Mighty Galvatron!”

    *He’s changed!* Ravage’s voice broke in on Soundwave’s thoughts as he left Galvatron’s presence.

    *How so?* he asked the mech still within him.

    *He’s not ... stressed. I haven’t seen him like this since before Unicron.*

    *Yes.... I see your point. Something has changed since we began our current operations. He is waging a war of scales and balances. The Galvatron of only a few solar cycles ago would not have had patience for such work.*

    *What happened?*

    What indeed? One day Galvatron had been arguing with Zarak that this very kind of subtle strategy was meaningless and cowardly and the next he had presented a well considered plan of precisely that nature which divided their forces into smaller groups that were better able to avoid detection, notably sending Cyclonus and most of his erratic flesh infested comrades — not that he had phrased it THAT way — to Nebulos to secure that planet’s significant energy resources. Even his tact had been a dramatic change.

    *Ravage, keep your speculations to our secure channels.*

    He uploaded four copies of the files that he’d been working with.

    “Ravage, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, Ratbat ... eject!”

    The four cassettes erupted from him and formed an orderly inspection line.

    “Qualify the nature and purpose for the data mining but do not interfere or reveal yourselves. Use the systems in our chambers.”

    Except for Ratbat they moved swiftly to their assigned task.

    “Is there a problem?”

    “No, my work on balancing our energy siphoning loads is ahead of schedule. I’m just curious about why you wouldn’t be going with us?”

    Soundwave nodded: “You need not concern yourself about my actions. Until I return you are in charge.”

    Ratbat almost seemed merry as he flew off to join the others.

    “Rumble, Frenzy ... eject!”

    “Hey, Bossbot!” Rumble chimed as he landed with a flourish like he was dancing, “What are we doing today?”

    “We will be in the comm tower.”

    “Vermin control?” Frenzy asked.

    “This fortress is currently free of unwanted vermin.”

    “Say no more, say no more! After you, bro?” Frenzy bowed.

    “No, after you!” Rumble bowed back.






    Zarak was sitting on Scorponok’s throne and looking contemplative with his chin lightly resting on his fingertips.

    “Mighty Soundwave, my friend!” he beamed as the glass elevator door opened, “Just the Cybertron I wanted to see.”

    “Greetings, Lord Zarak.”

    “I want you to look at something I’ve found. It’s a mere curiosity, really, but it seems like something you might be interested in.”

    The main display showed a symbolic representation of Earth’s internet. There was a faint golden twinkling, a shimmer scattered around the map. Soundwave imagined it had to be the mysterious agents. But if so, why so few? His own sweep had revealed tens of thousands rather than mere hundreds.

    “It’s just a trifle, really. But since you’re here I wanted to show it to you.”

    Inferior fleshling! He probably couldn’t avoid their counter measures, which would explain why there were so few. The only question–

    “What of Galvatron?”

    “We can tell him later once we know what it’s all about.” Zarak chimed.

    “Prudent. I will have my subordinates operate your substations.”

    “If you insist?”

    The only question was why he could spot the counter measures if they were successful against him? Normally, this should be an either-or situation rather than both-and. Was Zarak hiding information to test his abilities?

    He was certainly being friendly today, so it could be a ruse. The faint trace of Cybertronian interest that the screen displayed could have been easily detected with the somewhat superior equipment here in the city if he knew how to look for it.

    Frenzy and Rumble were directing a few of Zarak’s visible agents to move in such a way as to crowd the stranger’s. When these responded and moved clumsily away he noticed how Zarak shifted his posture and crossed his arms. Was he being defensive?

    What was Ratbat seeing right now? Unlike his own listening posts, Zarak’s agents were mobile just like the stranger’s. That meant there was a way around the power issue that he had not considered before.

    “What is the nature of your logic probes?”

    “I’m using Energy Phantoms, a counter terrorist tool developed in the days when the rebel scum still had pockets of political control. Don’t tell me that your people lack such a basic technology?”

    Soundwave didn’t change his posture a bit, only stepped up the magnification on his optics to read over Frenzy’s shoulder.

    “We have not used our similar data mining ability on Earth because of ambient power needs.”

    Which was technically true without admitting the full nature of Decepticon efforts.

    “Yes, that would make sense considering your homeworld.” Zarak stood up and motioned to a side screen which zoomed in on one agent that had moved close to another that Rumble had been manipulating — as it paused its motion a ripple of data began flowing down the left side of the screen and up the right side, “They do seem to be able to detect my Phantoms so they aren’t primitive. I’m speculating if I should capture one and inspect it directly.”

    “Nebulan technology is superior.” Soundwave somehow managed to say it believably.

    So that was it? Nebulan Phantoms were multipurpose and possibly capable of intrusive counter measures too. To be that complex ... they had to carry a power source within them since merely being energy thrifty would be inadequate.

    “Yes, of course it is.” Zarak’s pride was reflexive and his posture became less defensive, “Presently I’m considering if this is the work of some old national government or else the Autobots. Since you have not been using your own techniques I would say that the odds are against it being the Autobots. What do you think, Soundwave?”

    “Autobots do not use such methods.”

    “Really?” his surprise was obvious, “Why?”

    “The existence and use of our techniques was considered highly classified by Cybertron’s government and so knowledge of such was restricted to the proper authorities.”

    Lies that only contained the truth were the very best kind of lie. Seeing Zarak’s face express a moment of discovery, one quickly suppressed–

    “Galvatron will be proud.” Soundwave silently congratulated himself.

    “Do you think we should capture one?”

    “Why reveal your capabilities needlessly? If, as you say, this is one of Earth’s national governments then they may presume you to be the same. Manipulate the situation and watch them closely.”

    Zarak was nodding and smiling.






    “Ratbat, report.”

    “We have confirmed your analysis and established the number of agents at around 45 thousand decreasing at a rate of 1.3% per megacycle. Since the number of agents that have been observed expiring is steady, it would suggest that they have been in use for five or six days now given our estimate of their internal power reserves and their current numbers. Presently, Buzzsaw and Ravage are trying to locate their source; I’m working at making sense of their search criteria; and Laserbeak is analyzing odd movements among enemy agent clusters that make it appear as if there is also a third party which we cannot see.”

    “I can confirm your third party as Zarak. Are the newcomer agents responding to our own listening posts?”

    “No.”

    “Rumble, Frenzy ... assume stations six and seven and provide your observational data to Lazerbeak. Compare the known performance data of the newcomers with our own countermeasures and determine why we cannot see the Nebulan Phantoms.”

    “Aren’t you concerned about the enemy?” Ratbat seemed surprised.

    “Affirmative. But newcomer agents are most likely Combaticon or Seeker sourced.”

    It was the first time he’d mentioned it. Even if Ratbat had suspected the possibility before, his apparent stunned silence spoke for itself.
     
  15. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Part 9: Opening Moves



    “Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle! It took almost a week, but we’ve been spotted.”

    “Humans wouldn’t have the ability to detect us.” Resonance felt the need to point out the obvious — again.

    Ray watched the display as countermeasures continued to herd their other agents away from these mysterious entities. That they were this far from Earth meant that the little critters were pretty much on their own in the face of opposition that displayed all the signs of being intelligently guided. Also, these entities seemed to be able to both gather data as well as perform countermeasures — so they were somewhat sophisticated. Probably had an internal power source to fuel all that sophistication.

    “We’ve got’em surrounded and out numbered!” Jazz was upbeat.

    “Any evidence of how they found us? Their technique seems a little clumsy.”

    Jazz was scrolling back through the data: “Here! One of our countermeasures bit the electrons while near one. It must’ve picked up on its decayed energy signature and communicated it to the rest.”

    The movement of the other entities was momentarily aggressive, as if the opposition was trying to trap one of their agents, but they would back away at the last moment. This happened several times.

    “These are true general purpose units.” Ray said after watching them, “We’ll need to factor in their abilities next time.”

    “They’ve got to have some sort of internal power system.”

    If he thought it too, Jazz didn’t say anything about Resonance’s newfound tic either.

    “They aren’t Decepticons.” Ray announced.

    The confused “Then who are they?” looks prompted him to tell them that, at the very least, Soundwave would be better with this technique than he was. Since they saw these other entities before they were spotted, it would follow that they weren’t up against Decepticons. Or at least any group that included Soundwave.

    “I thought you said these things were classified?”

    “Not that classified, Jazz. I’m not even command grade.”

    “Was Soundwave?”

    “No.... But among my Combaticon brothers, other sons of Artemus, a number were fairly high ranked. Shockwave, the highest ranked, ended up being a Division Commander before he threw in with Megatron.”

    “Starscream?” Jazz drew out the name comically.

    Ray smiled: “I’m two pay grades better than Starscream!”

    “How does his ego survive?”

    It was good that Jazz had found something to laugh about in their situation. Ray was having a harder time and Resonance barely smiled at learning that the “Decepticon Air Commander” was really a poser.

    “If not Decepticons, then who?” the younger mech cut in on Jazz’ merriment.

    “Too dope to be humans. Too lame to be Decepticons. So who do you think?”

    “Nebulans.” Resonance said without pause.

    Ray wasn’t really sure what “dope” meant; but, he thought he understood Jazz’ point. One thing though, these “Earthisms” were starting to grind his gears. He was way too far behind the curve!

    “Even better,” Jazz continued, “we may’ve finally ‘found’ Scorponok.”

    “If you can call finding evidence of Scorponok on Earth good news.... Do you want to call Prime with this now?”

    “Lets see if we can set a trap first, junior.”

    “What do you have in mind, Jazz?” Ray kicked his feet up on an empty chair.






    “You want me on the next regular shuttle to Earth? What’s the deal?”

    “I need you to get a message to Blaster on the QT.”

    Goldbug leaned forward over the console: “What’s wrong with calling him? Seems a lot quicker than waiting till tomorrow evening for me to get there.”

    “That’s true, it would be.”

    “So quiet means quiet. Ok, why not? I’m free for the weekend.”






    Soundwave watched the data streams with interest. Not only were Zarak’s Phantoms being outmaneuvered by agents operating on their own, but several new types had been quietly appearing in the e-space beyond the Nebulan’s senses. He had identified these as hunter-killer and capture types. They were congregating in certain areas of the internet in a haphazardly distributed fashion across the North American continent.

    The strangers were planning something — and playing it cool.

    *Soundwave,* Buzzsaw broke in on his thoughts, *I’ve isolated the common element in the distribution of these new units. They exist only where e-space is contained within power transmission lines. They’re also appearing in everyplace where this is true at the same time and at the same rate. Decrease in the number of data units is increasing.*

    That was it! That was how Cybertron type agents were being spawned into the energy deprived atmosphere of Earth’s internet. They had spawned them into the power transmission system where they could be provided with a battery for their excursion onto the web. How simple and yet brilliant! It opened up all sorts of doors to push forward the Decepticon agenda too.

    But it also meant that they were either already in North America with direct access to the power grid or they had access to one or all of these hubs through an intermediary. Which was it? Hunter-killer and capture agents worked best when guided; but, with the small number of Phantoms out there they could be planning to use overwhelming force too.

    He watched the progress of Buzzsaw’s and Ravage’s work for a while.

    Combaticons and/or Seekers interested in Earth? Were they searching for evidence of the Decepticons? Or was it Autobot activities that peaked their interest?

    Instead they’d found Zarak. There was a real danger if they captured and analyzed a Phantom that they could find Scorponok — or even learn to control it. The true nature of Hive powers had yet to be determined and Phantoms were an unexplored issue.

    The problem was Zarak’s pride.

    Autobot interference was both likely and unacceptable; but, there might be a way to keep them occupied.

    *Ratbat, continue with your analysis. I have to see Galvatron about a side issue.*






    “Yes, yesss, blast you!!! I’m up! I’m up already!!!”

    Well ... maybe not? Not if that fuzzy feeling in his nostrils was the rug. Always so sluggish at night.... Stupid federal regulations making a case of how you set your thermostat! Not that they would be sympathetic with his special needs. No, not that....

    The phone kept ringing.

    Why did he buy the one that rang so cheerfully? It was never an issue during the day. But at night–

    Another cheerfully grating ring.

    If this was the allergist calling about his bill again he’d flay him alive! He took a snort on his inhaler and gathered his wits.

    “Yes?” he rolled over as he held the phone to his face.

    “I apologize for calling in the middle of the night. I was wondering if you would give me a bit of your time?”

    What?! That strange wind chime voice and smug air of pride?

    “Hello, robot. How can I help you? Is your boss planning a cookout in Utah? I charge extra for catering.”

    “Commander, please, I can assure you that this is not a social call. I was given to understand that you now perform certain services–”

    “Lets be up front, ssshall we? I’ve had wealth: boring. I’ve had power too: pure hassle. Flunkies? Betray you the instant your fortunes turn — I believe YOUR boss knows about that? And I’m not interested in revenge. Right now I’m content to watch all my old foes grow even older and decay into dust before I dance on their graves while still a relatively young man. Or maybe get piss drunk and remember them fondly? I’m really not sure which I’ll do just yet.”

    “Commendable.” the chiming voice continued, “But I do believe you left out ‘fun.’”

    Of all the–!?

    “I’m listening.”






    Of all the toys that he’d kept from his days as an ‘adventurer,’ the proof-of-concept weather dominator had always seemed the least promising. It was fairly lame since it couldn’t do more than cause more rain once it was already raining. He had almost passed on the whole grand scheme back then just for that reason. Of course, now he was out for something besides ruling the world like he was some overcompensating lab mouse. Now he was in it for the fun.

    “Damn that robot!” he silently cursed, “It would be just like it to know my weakness.”

    “You’re not as talkative as I remember.” he said out loud.

    The avian robot called Buzzsaw just stared at him before picking up a tool in its beak and handing it to him. All that was left was reconfiguring several power conduits to accept the fuel cells that Soundwave had sent him by Mecha Birdie Express.

    “You know, this would be more fun for both of us if you weren’t so ... speechless. Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you sssupposed to be the smartest of the cassette types?”

    “I believe that Subcommander Ratbat’s intellect edges me out ever so slightly. Though my experience and power exceed his.” the robot said in a cultured voice.

    “Thank you, Buzzsaw. You’ve restored my faith in your builders.”

    “Because I can talk?” its eyes narrowed dangerously.

    “No. Because you don’t pretend that your abilities are absolutely the best at all times. I’ve had my fill of people like that. I was once one of them myself!... It was a hard lesson to learn.”

    “I knew at least one Decepticon who never learned that lesson.” its eyes seemed to laugh, “But he’s dead now and no one misses him.”

    “Heh! Don’t miss mine much either.... Say, Cybertronian, exactly how much warning will your boss be able to give us for those energy pulses from space? The response time of the weather dominator was never very good, so if we’re going to modulate the coming storm to produce interference we’ll need several minutes for each major adjustment.”

    “Soundwave believes he can estimate the signal state up to 5 minutes in advance.”

    “Good! Lets just hope that we don’t knock down all the nearby cell phone towers.”

    Buzzsaw seemed to laugh.

    It was true that using a cell phone for the last data link was a calculated risk, but they were up against Autobots and not Joes. A cell phone signal would probably go unnoticed.

    Maybe he should order pizza before they started?






    “Earth!” Goldbug was taking in the view from the shuttle’s passenger lounge.

    Somehow, saying it that way didn’t make things feel any better. Too many old faces were missing. And some of those who remained were changing way too fast.

    His fellow passengers, mostly humans who were working in Iacon on a 9-on-6-off rotation schedule, ignored his outburst. Maybe they’d gotten used to the way that Autobots could find pleasure in seeing the same things over and over? Whatever.

    But even Autobots could get jaded to such a view.

    Remember!

    He sighed and chided himself for the lapse. There were friends he could go to see just as soon as his errand was over. Chip had finally settled down and done his part for the future of the human race, so seeing him, Grace, and their new baby Jack was mandatory.

    Just a little stop by Blaster’s place, a chat with Ultra Magnus, and that would be it. Maybe he should go see Karen or Ferdy and Gabe too? They were all nearby. That would be nice. He hadn’t seen Karen since they brought Attack of the Alien Robots out of its can at the Center City Film Festival four years ago. As for Ferdy and Gabe, they were still running that bed and breakfast up in Maple Valley. Hopefully they hadn’t picked up any strange tape decks recently.

    The shuttle landed at the King County Starport, only a Friday night crawl away from Autobot City down I-5. Goldbug had already figured out how much time for driving and for visiting. It would be a fun weekend!

    Fun and wet: it was raining really hard. It brought a smile to what was left of his face. For some reason, bad stuff always seemed to happen around the old stomping grounds when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so the rain had always been welcome.






    Blaster put down the data plate that Jazz had sent with Goldbug.

    “It seems Earth Defense Command patrols haven’t been as air tight as advertised.” Ultra Magnus leaned back against the window.

    “You say that every other time the Decepticons pop up!” Blaster laughed.

    “Maybe. If Zarak is here on Earth though, Quin’s little training session may turn out to be one of the best things to happen for us in a long time.”

    “Hey, if I’m through here, can I roll out?” Goldbug pointed towards the door, “There are some folks I want to see and I figure I’ve just enough time before it gets too late.”

    “You sure about that?” Ultra Magnus was looking out the window, “This storm is really coming on hard and your wet road performance isn’t the best.”

    “So I don’t weigh much and wear vintage tires? Look, if it will make you happy I’ll update my vehicle mode to something more robust. Just not this weekend.”

    Why can’t I

    Goldbug shook his head, people were always pressing him to update. They didn’t care that the new earth vehicles were so lame, ranging from ultra-bland to ultra-tacky with little in between. There was something timeless about the old cars. Something that wasn’t just about getting you from point A to point B.

    “Sure. But stay close. The weatherman says that the storm is gonna be a 25 year drenching. We may need help if things turn bad.”

    “Thanks, Ultra Magnus!... See’ya Blaster.”

    “Later!”

    Something about the road.






    “We could have a millennial rain at this rate.”

    The view outside of their hotel was getting really dark. Already the weather dominator was slowly ramping up the storm and following a program to make it all look natural. Used this way, the energies it radiated would be difficult to detect.

    “Would you really mind if we did?”

    “Not really, I was warned that this could be a long job. It’s just that I didn’t order enough beer or pizza to go the distance. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize they sold energon goodies until it was too late.”

    Buzzsaw glanced his way: “It would’ve been suspicious for you to have ordered energon goodies. But thanks anyway.”

    “Well, why else have an expense account? Maybe we could get you some later? The local Papa Johns will still be able to deliver through tomorrow at a minimum.”

    The one bright spot was that he had his DVRs running full time back home. God bless the Weather Channel and a 24-hour news cycle in stereo HD! It would be fun to watch it all again once the drama Soundwave and he were orchestrating had reached its soggy end.






    “Still no change in Nebulan activity.” Ray observed.

    “That’s one freakishly huge storm.” Jazz was watching the Weather Channel rather than his monitors, “A side show that big could be a problem for us.”

    “I thought you said nothing bad ever happens when it rains in Seattle?” Resonance demanded.

    “If the rain wants to be the bad, that’s different.”

    Rain? Ray sighed. He hated rain. It was one of the reasons why he’d never wanted to go to Earth.

    As for the Nebulans: it was out of his hands now. Whatever happened — if Blaster managed to rally the army he’d provided to seize the supposed Nebulan devises and decipher their construction, or even if he managed to find Scorponok — it was all out of his hands.

    Even though Jazz knew what they were really doing, Ray could forgive him for being distracted. Catching the bad guys was really much more interesting than gathering data on a world gone mad that no longer threatened anyone.

    Jazz really didn’t have what it took to be a spy, after all.

    Ray turned to the monitors that kept track of the data mining. Was Soundwave watching their every move? Who knew? Despite his brash attitude, Blaster was a real pro. He wouldn’t take the warnings Ray had given him lightly.

    “It’s time!” Jazz emoted.
     
  16. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Part 10: Storm of the Century



    –Crrrraaaaaack!!!!!!– –Krish!– –Boooooom!!!!!!–

    “Waaaaa-hoo!” one human yelled as he raised his active cell phone’s screen towards the sky, “Way to go, God!!!”

    The South 320th Street bridge over them seemed to shutter in that moment when the tumult of rain ceased to be the loudest thing around them.

    “You know,” Goldbug had his holographic driver lean out of the open door to yell, “smoking and carrying a lighter would be safer than that fool stunt!”

    “Leave him alone.” his passenger sighed, “At least he didn’t try to use his hovercar once the winds got bad.”

    “Sorry, Chip. I guess I really was corrupted by the Marlborough Man.”

    “Heh, it’s not every Autobot who accidentally ends up in a national ad campaign. You never told me what you were doing out there?”

    “Just sneaking around behind Prime’s back.” the hologram shrugged.

    Chip had been so set on acting like everything was ok, that the two of them had gone to get Starbucks for everyone taking shelter at his house. Only this wasn’t an ordinary storm. The weatherman had already revised it up to a 100 year deluge and the severe weather alerts were getting redundant. Being so light, it seemed a good time to pull to the side to give things a moment to calm down.

    “Somehow the storm has grown big enough that it’s pulling moist air directly off of the Sound.” Chip was slowly stirring his otherwise untouched latté, “Or maybe there’s some huge front running down on us? I can’t think of anything else that could cause this.”

    “I’m sure Grace is doing just fine.”

    “She knows if things get bad to head up to the Commons.” he smiled, “On the bright side, my environmentally conscious neighbors won’t give me any more grief over the old Town Car. Not after she gives them all a ride to safety.”

    “We could call them again and tell them to meet us there?”

    “No, she doesn’t need to get out unless it’s necessary. Besides, we’ll be home the instant this lets up.”

    “Yeah. And for the record: right now I’m ready to become a fuel hog myself.” Goldbug joked, “A big, heavy fuel hog.”

    “Not your style.” Chip grinned broadly.

    “Goldbug:” it was Ultra Magnus over the comm, “I need you to head over to the Auburn Municipal Airport. The Governor is putting together a relief center there.”

    “The Supermall is bigger and can handle more people.” Chip pointed out.

    “True, Mr. Chase, but there’s a pocket near the airport where the winds and rain aren’t so bad. Even human vehicles can safely take off and land. This mess is too big for just the few Autobots on hand.”

    Chip shifted about in his seat uneasily.

    “Right, we’ll head that way.”

    Goldbug closed his driver’s side door and began to move back into traffic.

    “Goldbug, exit Military to 31st. Take me home.”

    “Sure, it’s nearly on the way.”

    “Actually, before you head on to the airport I want to check something out in my office.”






    Power was off in the cul-de-sac. Dim light from candles and flashlights inside Chip’s home revealed that people were still there.

    Goldbug shielded the coffee from the rain as Chip let himself in.

    “Hey, go around back and I’ll meet you there.”

    “What about Ultra Magnus’ instructions.”

    “My office first, then you can go on.”

    He looked off to the right of the house. The gate was locked but it would be no problem for him to hop the fence. A minute later Chip appeared in his hover chair at the back door. Goldbug followed him to their guest house that they’d converted into an office that was transformer friendly.

    “Lucky for us, what we need is internally powered.” Chip allowed while Goldbug was wiping off the mud.

    It was an old human computron of sorts. It looked familiar.

    “This is what you wanted?”

    “Yeah! Its my old PC-AT that Wheeljack rebuilt for me.”

    “Ick!”

    “No, listen again: ‘Wheeljack rebuilt for me.’ You know, before Optimus put an end to haphazard technology transfers?”

    “... Okay....”

    The machine crept to comatose as it began its boot routine — Windows 3 no less. It took several minutes longer than it would take to read a DOS manual, or so it seemed.

    “Sorry, Speedy used to seem a lot faster.”

    Soon the monitor showed a vibrant color display quite out of character with human technology from the mid 80’s.

    “Hey, Speedy, we need your energy scanner. Set the range to 8 miles and focus on the sky.”

    Compliance.” the machine chimed after a few moments.

    Goldbug chuckled — Wheeljack had obviously ignored the repo order for this one.

    He leaned forward to see what the hodgepodge was displaying.

    “This is one impressive storm!” Goldbug allowed as he looked at the energy patterns that were erupting in the skies over the southern end of the Sound.

    A bit too impressive. So my question to you is: how, in the middle of a storm like this, is there anyplace of relative calm that stays put long enough for the Governor to think she can count on it?”

    “No idea. Meteorology isn’t my strong suit.”

    A massive thunderclap overhead shook the walls. But as impressive as the noise had been, what happened on Speedy’s screen was even more impressive.

    “Ho!”






    “That’s right,” Goldbug was on his comm to Autobot City, “the storm isn’t natural. Not quite five minutes ago the energy levels in the atmosphere overhead began to double to where they are now. They look like they could double again in only twenty minutes.”

    “Is this a new talent of yours?” Rewind asked.

    “A friend of mine does this sort of thing for a hobby.”

    No way he was telling them about Speedy! If Chip had it, it was because Wheeljack had wanted him to have it.

    “Really? Because we aren’t seeing anything but rain in the sky over us. Lots, and lots ... and lots of rain.”

    “Primus save me!” Goldbug thought loudly.

    “What about over us? Where we are?!”

    “No need to shout. This isn’t fourth and long in the last moments of the super bowl!”

    “Please get your head out of your tail pipe.” he muttered.

    He could barely hear Chip and he was just a few feet away!

    “What was that?”

    “I said: ‘Please get your scanners set on our area!’”

    “Right! Again, no need to shout.”

    Goldbug muted his mic.

    “What should they look for?”

    “Speedy never had the best sensitivity. It almost looks like a warp ship is trying to hover in hyperspace above us. Or emerge from hyperspace.”

    “How big?”

    “Bigger than the Ark big.”

    “Frag me!”

    “Now that you mention it, that does look interesting.” Rewind allowed.

    Goldbug reactivated his mic: “Can you pick up any spatial distortions?!”

    “Pull the other one!”

    “Please try!”

    A few moments with nothing but monstrous thunder and rattling walls.

    “I think we’re loosing the roof.”

    “No worries, the guy who put it on lives behind me.” Chip forced a laugh.

    “Riiiiight!” Rewind was back, “Say, Goldbug, can you stay on hold for a bit?”

    “Sure!”

    “Stay right where you are!”

    The comm went silent.

    “Anything wrong?” Chip yelled.

    “No ... nothing.... Blaster is looking for Scorponok and something about his size could be about to crash land on top of our heads at any moment! What could possibly be wrong?”

    “I’ll get Grace and the baby ready to move!”

    “No way!”

    Chip glared at him.

    “That hover chair is a disaster waiting to happen in these winds! You say here and live to see W.J. grow up!”

    Water was starting to drip through the ceiling. Chip quickly draped a plastic sheet from a box over Speedy.

    “If I’m staying here then this is me ‘Staying at my post!’”






    “Well burnt without butter.” came the resounding verdict once the data from the weather dominator’s secondary control systems had reported back.

    “Your machine couldn’t handle the strain?” Buzzsaw was peering over his shoulder.

    “It was for proof-of-concept. Destro always overbuilt these toys, but they weren’t indestructible.”

    “I see. Then we’ve failed.”

    “I wouldn’t sssay so.” he turned towards Buzzsaw, “The Autobots will be too busy scrambling to save greater Seattle to pay much attention to the skies. Whatever these energy pulses were they will be missed for sure.”

    “I see you’ve learned to look on the bright side of things too?”

    “Another hard lesson I had to learn. Listen, Buzzsaw, we need to leave while the rain isss still coming down. If you want,” he coughed a few times, “you can ssstay with me until you know it’s safe to go home.”

    “That cough is getting worse.”

    “It’s my sssinusesss. Get me back to the dry air of Utah and I’ll be– Heh! Right as rain! I think I’ll go ahead and set the timer on the demolition charges. As much as I want to leave it as a calling card, it wouldn’t be prudent.”

    “Sounds reasonable.”

    How much longer would the robot keep up its act now that the dominator was out of commission?

    He set the explosives to detonate on a proximity basis instead of a timer. That way it might do a bit more damage than just blow itself up. Then he disconnected his cell phone from the controller, opened the window and acted as if he were about to throw it as far out into the night as he could.

    In that moment Buzzsaw pushed past him and perched in the window sill.

    “Actually, I don’t think I’ll need to go back to Utah with you.”

    “Really? I’m recording the whole affair in HD.”

    The robot hesitated as if actually swayed by the promise of seeing the devastation, but shook its head instead.

    “You are an interesting person, Commander. But no. No hard feelings?”

    “None at all. And Buzzsaw,” he produced a tinfoil package from his pocket that he opened to show the energon goody within, “I lied earlier. I figured you’d need sssomething for the road.”

    Buzzsaw took the treat and left without a word.

    “Take care robot.” he muttered as he closed the window.

    It had been fun so far.

    Soundwave may’ve been feeding him a line about some all-important signal from space — seriously, if they could pick it up here then they could’ve picked it up on Cybertron too — but it hadn’t broken its promise about the fun aspect. The rest of his fun for tonight was in his own hands.

    He would start by leaving this improvised ‘command center’ for something a bit more suitable. He walked to the bathroom and pulled out a small transmitter. One short range signal later and the shower rotated to reveal a hidden stair.

    “Thessse old airport motels do have their charms!” he laughed before starting down.

    Halfway down he snapped his fingers from realization: “The pizzas!”
     
  17. cmdrtekk

    cmdrtekk New Member

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    Since I have been enjoying your stories, I thought I should probably compliment you on them. Particularly The HAll of Dead Gods. Anyway, thanks. Have you ever posted to Fanfiction dot nets Transformers Section? I did not see your work there.
     
  18. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Thanks! I'm glad you like it so far.

    And no, I haven't posted anything over there as yet.
     
  19. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Part 11: Cat and Venomous Mouse



    “The Technobots were searching for your energy source when it went dark. I need you to go over to the airport and help them look for it on the ground.”

    “Hey, Magnus,” Chip shouted over the still loud storm, “I’ll be glad to help out too if you send someone to get Grace, Jack and my guest somewhere safe! I think I lost my roof not long ago.”

    “I’m sorry, Mr. Chase, but no. Though you seem capable, this just isn’t a battle you have to fight in. Besides, you have your family to protect. If you really want me to, I’ll send around a Protectobot to look in on you later?”

    “Thanks,” Chip sounded disappointed, “but that won’t be necessary.”

    “Roger that! Goldbug, report to the District U.S. Marshal at the main terminal building. The President and Governor have agreed to let him run the show.”

    “Will do!”

    Goldbug waited while Chip turned Speedy off.

    ”How can you tell that it was your roof? It looks ok to me.”

    “I’m the only one on the cul-de-sac with a tan roof.” Chip sighed, “Help me get over to the house and I’ll take it from there.”






    Old fluorescent fixtures flickered and cast uneven patches of light in the darkness. The hum from their ballast was noticeable too. He should really have a talk with the boys in procurement! They were apparently buying cheap– Oh, that’s right! The boys in procurement were all dead — they’d only assumed that being Cobra’s top accountants would mean they’d be safe. Rather foolish of them to assume!

    “What the twinsss won’t do to trim benefits cost!” he laughed.

    The sound of dripping water brought the laughter to an end.

    “Damn contractors!”

    With the power being out this place had probably seen some flooding.

    Another coughing fit seized him.

    “Damn humidity!”

    There was supposed to be a controlled environment lab attached to Destro’s executive suite on the middle level. If it was intact he could dry out and warm up the air. It would be better than running things from up here. But first there was the matter of bringing independent power on line. The first two banks of power breakers had proved temperamental and reminded him of something from a Frankenstein movie for all the sparks. Thankfully no one had looted this base’s reinforced rubber rods so the situation wasn’t nearly as dangerous as it could’ve been. Now only the third bank of switches remained.

    “One down.... Two — and it’s the 4th of July!” he waited as he listened to the hum of generator #1 off in the distance, “Three.... And four–!?!”

    He patted his face plate to put out the cinder before using the hammer end of the rod to break contact.

    “My favorite face plate!” he whined.

    Oh well, that’s what expense accounts were for. Soundwave wanted a distraction and he wanted more fun. Still, it had been his favorite....

    Only two of three generators? It would have to do.

    “Almost forgot to close the front door!”

    From the main engineering panel he closed the shower entrance before disconnecting from external power and easing off of the batteries.






    Goldbug squeezed through the doors.

    The main terminal building was a bee hive of activity: there were hundreds of refugees and relief workers; armed soldiers from the Army and National Guard were scattered about; Police too; even people in Earth Defense Command uniforms were present; but, these last seemed to be in a decidedly subordinate role here.

    A tall black man wearing a perfectly tailored suit and sporting a Federal Marshal’s silver star took notice and waved Goldbug over.

    “Sorry I’m late.”

    “No problem, Bumblebee!” he smiled, “We owe you a debt of gratitude! I’m U.S. Marshal Apollo Creed — no comments from the peanut gallery!” he barely turned away at that moment.

    No one said a thing, but it was obvious that the name had already caused some unwanted comments among those not in suits.

    “Actually, it’s–”

    “What was wrong with ‘Bumblebee?’” he asked himself.

    “Never mind, glad to help any who I am!” he laughed.

    a name

    “Good! We believe the technology used to cause the storm must be somewhere in the airport based on our information from just before it quit operating.” he pointed out a map spread across a table, “I’m going to assign some officers and soldiers to you and let you check out the hangers and grounds on the north west side of the field. You’ll be working with Captain Dan Brisco of the National Guard and Lieutenant Cassy Williams of the SDPS Tactical Unit. Lets go meet them and get you on your way.”

    “Sure.”

    “They’re putting me in charge?” he silently emoted, “Sweet!”

    As they walked to the other side of the main terminal the Marshal filled him in on procedure and call signs. His team would be Alpha Charlie. He also told him where his fellow Autobots were searching just in case.

    Goldbug stopped in his tracks for a moment: “You didn’t–”

    “The Technobots are pretty young to be given supervisory responsibility; but, Ultra Magnus told me you had a good head on your shoulders. You’re his representative so they answer to you if anything big starts. Just keep me informed, ok?”

    “Also sweet! Do I get to be a deputy?”

    “Sorry, but the 1991 amendment to the Posse Comitatus Act forbids deputizing non-humans. No offense?”

    “None taken.”

    All his humans were in different flavors of antiriot armor under rain slickers and had those plexiglas shields too. The Lieutenant was a medium sized woman with tan features who came with three other officers: Fred Bacon, Jim Kimball and Norman Peebles. Brisco was somewhat short and looked like an accountant who could break down and reassemble his weapon in 8 seconds flat while laughing about knowing 50 different ways to kill someone with a toothpick — that was the impression he gave at any rate. He came with another five Guardsmen: Damfort, Kleen, Rove, Saunders and Zwikolonovich.






    “Well, that’s better!”

    The air was dryer and warmer now. Along with it the feeling that he would cough his head off had subsided too.

    “Really, it’s not a bad little base. Downright posh. Maybe I shouldn’t throw this one away just yet?”

    Still, he needed to risk using the communications array. No good reason to throw away once expensive assets for free if you could get paid for it, was there? The robot hadn’t given him a phone number to call but it had left a trace to the Far East that he could use.

    “A computer game company? Interesting....”

    The screen before him flickered with occasional static. The red live signal light lit up and a familiar voice rang in his ears.

    “You don’t know when to cut your losses? Do you, Cobra Commander?”

    “Losses? I’ve been having a grand time! In fact, I think I can add to the Autobots woes in the short term, and at bargain prices too.”

    “Inexpensive distractions — it would seem that you know my weakness as well. But you’ll have to do better than just ‘short term’ if you want my patronage.”

    “Of course! The thing about snakes isss, if you’re properly conditioned you can be made to see them in every shadow and hear them from under every rock.”

    “An interesting proposal.”

    “Would you be willing to accept my numbers?”

    “Considering that anything you would have to offer would be obsolete, I will expect heavy discounts. Though if you actually manage to disable or kill an Autobot at some juncture I might see my way to offer a bonus.”

    “Of course. The same arrangements as last time, then?”

    “Acceptable.”

    The screen displayed an account number which he could draw from later.

    “Most acceptable indeed!” he laughed, “‘Trash for cash: Hey Uncle Sam, I’m recycling and doing my part!’”

    In any of several dark pits hidden alongside the nearly flooded drainage system for the airport’s runways, dull red overhead lights broke up the darkness and figures began to move for the first time in decades. Their uniform lockstep both lifeless and ponderous.






    “Sorry again about the mud.”

    “Hey, would you believe that Autobot City has one of the best detail shops on the planet?”

    Officer Williams looked confused: “Then why do I always see you guys at the Jiffy-Wash?”

    “It’s cheap?”

    Apologizing about mud in a storm like this: humans could be funny that way.

    It was still raining and the visibility was poor. Which was making looking for this weather machine all the more difficult. Even the Technobots, with all their gadgets, must be having a time with it. Speaking of which–

    “This is Alpha Charlie,” he activated his comm, “to home plate. Are you there Marshal Creed?”

    “The one and only.”

    “Grid 11 in our area is clear. Proceeding to grid 12.”

    “Copy, Alpha Ch*hsssssssssss*.”

    Static?

    “Hey Autobot, looks like we’re getting reinforcements.” one of the soldiers, probably Kleen, was waving and pointing back towards the terminal building.

    Sure enough, another 9 figures were walking their way.

    The soldier with ‘Kleen’ seemed encouraged that the search would be expedited. Captain Brisco didn’t seem so sure. He was trying to use his radio but was only getting static too.

    “Shit! Zwickster, Kleen ... get back over here!”

    Goldbug stepped up the magnification on his optics and tried to enhance the detail in the backlit figures. It seemed like they were dressed in dark clothes but their lack of rain slickers or shields made them seem less like reinforcements.

    “Hey guys, why don’t you pull back and let me greet our reinforcements?”

    At maybe 50 paces away the tidy group began running towards them.

    “Get down and be ready for the worst!” Officer Williams barked from where she had assumed a prone position.

    Human attackers? That made no sense. Why would Nebulans or Decepticons employ human mercenaries? Goldbug stepped up the gain on his comm to a range beyond what local jamming tech could easily block. He’d just figured out that the ‘locals’ had unexpectedly good jamming gear when the newcomers opened fire.

    It was an odd motion, the rifles on their backs just popped up to be grabbed mid stride and effortlessly swung into firing position. Even odder was the way they did it all at once as if this were some over-choreographed battle scene in a Hollywood movie. Oddest of all was their silence as they fired in unison.

    Not even one: “Go get’em guys!”

    Goldbug took two hits that burned and sizzled, leaving pockmarks and cracks in his armor. There was –something– familiar about these rounds.

    Without thinking about it, he charged forward under the guidance of his combat computer. His CC was actually having an easy time predicting their shots, so he was able to close the distance without taking any more hits.

    One of the humans tried to fire at him at point blank range; but, Goldbug ripped the rifle from his grasp and performed an open palm slap on the chest instead — a move that Prowl had taught them as a reliable, non-lethal way to subdue humans. The soldier went skidding back and fell to his knees.

    The others continued to run forward and fire as if they hadn’t even noticed him attack their friend. Talk about discipline! Then Goldbug felt something impact his side hard and the rifle he’d just seized was ripped from his grasp.

    “No way!”

    The human was back on his feet and had just delivered a blow that any four Mike Tysons would be proud of! At point blank range he fired three times into the surprised Autobot.

    “Oh no you don’t!”

    Goldbug delivered another non-lethal blow — though with greater force — to the human who promptly staggered back and fell again.

    Something was wrong here!

    Shots from the M-16s that his police and soldier friends were using seemed to be peppering the enemy but they acted like it meant nothing to them despite the obvious damage they were taking.

    He heard something.... The soldier getting up again?

    Goldbug activated his headlights — which had always been located on his feet — to try to get a better look. The enemy wore a black uniform with orange trim and had an orange hooded serpent emblazoned across his chest. His features were hidden behind a silver mask and a wide, vented helmet.

    “Cobra?!?”






    “Well, that’s got those properly mobilized.”

    The display from the airport’s own security cameras showed the different preliminary engagements. Of the six Autobots present only one, a smaller yellow mech, seemed to have figured out that it was up against other robots. The others were still trying to fight so as to not injure their “human” enemies.

    Cobra Commander pulled out the thick illustrated guide he’d bought from a book store earlier. He didn’t find the yellow one but the others were “Technobots” and could form a slow moving giant super computer called “Computron”.... Couldn’t have them go and do that now, could we! While the stats the guide provided were dubious at best, it did at least offer one possibility: unlike the other Technobots, Nosecone looked like it should be rather slow moving.

    He directed half of the deployed but still uncommitted BATs to surround and attack Nosecone’s group at the exact same moment the other half would attack the main terminal.

    Even if they didn’t take out the Autobot it should give him enough time to set up for Act Three.






    “Yo J–!?! *groan*”

    Damfort was coughing and sputtering from Lieutenant Williams’ well placed right hook.

    “Niiiice.” Brisco offered.

    “Thanks.”

    “Is there a ‘Mr. Williams?’”

    “But ... Captain?” Damfort was still gasping for air.

    “We are soldiers and guardsmen! Not some disbanded hoity toity special forces team too good to wear regular uniforms!” Brisco bristled.

    Humans certainly were interesting. Within moments of putting down the last Cobra drone they had turned on each other in different and even unexpected ways. Judging by her momentary change in body language, Brisco may just have an outside chance too.

    “Goldbug, we need to see about the other teams.” Williams’ reasserted her take charge persona.

    “They’re still scrambling communications. Since Scattershot is closest to the terminal and reinforcements we should move to Strafe’s position. Send Damfort and Rove to tell Scattershot who and what these guys are and then get Peebles to the relief station.”

    “You heard him!” Williams picked up her barely usable plexiglas shield.

    “Hey, Damfort?”

    “Yeah, Goldbug? Sir.”

    He was obviously still hurting.

    “If you can mention they’re drones without making it seem like you’re telling him they’re drones it would be a great help to me.”

    Last thing he needed was Scattershot thinking he’d been insulted or called dumb.

    Goldbug transformed and had everyone not heading back to the terminal either get in or hang on. In the back of his core processor he knew that if Strafe hadn’t gone battle-bonkers yet it was only a matter of time.
     
  20. Rurudyne

    Rurudyne Well-Known Member

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    Part 12: Madness



    I knew you were somewhere:
    I knew somecycle I’d see your face:
    But did I know you were here:
    Did I know the microcycle I’d return for you?
    –​

    “Goldbug?... Earth to Goldbug?” Lieutenant Williams was tugging at his steering wheel.

    “Eh?... Sorry.”

    “You started drifting a little. Are you damaged?”

    “No, I’m fine. I was just remembering an old song.”

    “Cut a car off from his radio for a few minutes and he falls to pieces.” Brisco half-laughed.

    “Patsy Klein I’m not! Sorry, I just got a bit nostalgic there.”

    “Must be some song.”

    Goldbug’s whole frame gently flexed the way it did when he had no head to nod.

    “It’s about looking for a friend.”

    He’d heard it performed live on Cybertron. Once in a club in Iacon.

    “Listen, we can assume that the others have already come under attack. The Technobots are more powerful than me, but sometimes their nano-switches don’t click right.”

    “And you’re telling us this ... why?” Brisco sounded uneasy.

    “Strafe is a bit nervous at times. Good guy, but high strung.”

    “Roger that.” Lieutenant Williams sighed, “This is just between us, too.”

    “Thanks!”

    The rain was coming down hard again and water was standing everywhere on the tarmac. Wind gust were playing havoc with them on the wide open runway too. Still the extra weight was providing Goldbug some real info on how much, or rather how little, extra mass he’d want.... Assuming he actually followed through on his pledge to Ultra Magnus and update.

    Through the darkness and rain he could just make out a flash of light — Strafe’s weapon.

    Clearly his fellow Autobot had figured out they were drones.

    He began accelerating. Hydroplaning on the standing water.

    He hoped that was the case.... What if Strafe–?

    More flashes of light and the sounds of gun fire. Radio was still jammed. Did Cobra really have that kind of technology: to jam line of sight ranges?... He told his team what they were heading for.

    “Then let us off and we’ll go in as a unit.”

    “Right. But let me go in first. Autobots wouldn’t throw in with Cobra.”

    He let them off and they formed up behind him.

    Strafe had stopped shooting. That was a relief!

    A flash of lightning changed his mind though. Strafe was surrounded by his team and he didn’t look happy.

    Goldbug began running as fast as he could — ignoring Brisco’s calls to wait.

    This was bad, really bad!

    “Strafe! Hey buddy!” he began calling out at maximum volume.

    Strafe looked away from his team. The way his eyes flashed behind his visor spoke of recognition and hope. The Technobot literally jumped into the air with a burst of thrust from his feet and somersaulted over the humans surrounding him. He landed like a skier and skidded towards Goldbug.

    “Primus!” Goldbug silently marveled, “If I could fly you can bet I wouldn’t forget and let myself get surrounded like that. What a doofus!”

    “Goldbug!!!”

    Strafe looked like he was about to swoop him up in his arms and twirl him around like some child’s rag doll.

    “I’m glad to see you too!”

    Instead he stopped and his expression became a blank mask.

    “Um, Strafe?”

    “It’s all a lie!” his voice sounded haunted.

    Then he pointed a weapon over Goldbug’s shoulder: “Stay back! All of you stay back! I know what you are!”

    “Strafe?!”

    Goldbug grabbed Strafe’s arm and pushed up.

    “Strafe!!!”

    “It’s all a lie! They’re robots too!” he shrieked, “They’re in league with the Decepticons!”

    At that moment two thoughts crossed Goldbug’s mind: “I miss Red Alert.” and “Why me?”

    Strafe was both larger and stronger. At long last he was full on crazy too. It was taking all Goldbug had to keep the bigger Autobot’s left arm pointed at the sky.

    Then the right arm came up as he pulled away: “You– ... You’re with them?!?”

    Goldbug’s CC began providing data plots and routes for escape all weighted on past observations of Strafe in combat.

    No!!!

    He stepped forward, leapt actually, and grabbed Strafe’s right arm. The bigger mech seemed nearly weightless as Goldbug spun him around only to slam him face down in the concrete with enough force to create a Strafe-shaped impression. He had kicked Strafe’s weapons away before he even felt the rush of energy leave him.

    “What are you talking about?!” he shouted at the prone Technobot, “Human beings aren’t drones! Where did you get that stupid idea?!?”

    “I ... I did what they taught me. Open palm to the chest with only so much– ... He died! And I saw–”

    Strafe was actually trembling. Goldbug knelt by his side and sighed.

    “Hey? Those were drones. They’re called BATs made by a bunch of loons called Cobra.” he forced a laugh and hoped Strafe hadn’t hurt anyone for real, “Humans aren’t drones, not even the really boring ones.”

    “Are you sure?” came the nervous reply.

    “I’ve known humans longer than anyone else.” he reassured, “They aren’t robots.”

    He saw the soldiers gathering nervously around them.

    “Was anyone hurt?” he asked without taking his eyes off of Strafe.

    “Not by the Autobot.” someone said.

    Goldbug nodded and thanked Primus for that much.

    “Can I get up?” Strafe asked.

    “Sure, you’re among friends! Everyone trust you here.”

    The humans apparently got the message since no one was pointing their weapon at the distressed Technobot when he rolled over and sat up.

    “You’re stronger than you look.”

    “I’ve been working out.” Goldbug joked even as he kept track of a self-diagnostics routine that he’d just started.

    It almost looked like the surge had come from his power attenuators, the unique gadgets that helped him to be so fuel thrifty. But that made no sense. All that energy had to have come from somewhere else instead.






    “Fascinating!” Cobra Commander had taken a moment away from his preparations to watch the two robots grapple, “I may have sent the BATs after the wrong Technobot.”

    Should he change his plans to take advantage of this Strafe?

    No, even with all the BATs at his disposal he didn’t have enough to waste trying to take out these particular alien machines. Best to keep what was left, Mark-2s and a few prototype BAAT models, for some now feasible upgrades. Maybe if he was useful the Decepticons would see their way to let go of some of their own technology? He never really understood why they would buy almost any unique example of Cobra technology — mostly semi functional prototypes or even castoffs — but would never return the favor.

    Still, in only moments 63 BATs would close in on Nosecone and the main terminal respectively.

    It was too bad that airport security wasn’t in stereo HD!






    “Are you sure he’s ok?” Brisco asked as they watched Strafe take off.

    “Strafe can get the wounded soldiers to the hospital a lot quicker than I can. Besides, a few blood stains on his upholstery will help keep his mind clear.”

    “What happened?”

    What indeed?

    “Hey!” Zwickster was pounding on his leg.

    “Careful of the paint job!”

    “No, look!”

    He was pointing to the south where some large fire fight had broken out — it was Nosecone’s area.






    Goldbug wished someone had a camera to get the shot. Or that he owned a hovercam.

    An immaculate yellow Super Bug charging through the driving rain with armed soldiers clinging to each other over his roof and to his C-pillars for dear life. The Autobot symbol proudly visible on his hood.

    It would have made the cover of Time, maybe even of Life. Maybe even Optimus’ wall.

    As it was, if any one did remember this night it would probably only be the crazed heroes who would’ve been in the picture anyway.

    Brisco was still trying to boost the power on his own radio.

    “I don’t get it!” he vented, “Shouldn’t interference this strong screw up anything electronic?”

    “Present company excluded, yeah, you think it would.”

    The fire fight was still raging and it looked like the bad guys had some heavier weapons in the mix. Goldbug began slowing to a safe stop.

    “–bug? Technobots? *crissssssssh hissssssss* me?”

    “Who was that?”

    “Rewind, Lieutenant. Autobot City must be trying to punch through the interference. Their signal is way too powerful for me to match.”

    “No chance of responding?”

    It had to be a distributed source of interference. No way humans could block a return carrier signal if they were using a point source. Not even Blaster or Soundwave could do that with a point source!

    “Not yet. But soon.”

    Just for a moment Goldbug’s mind drifted back to 1985 and a meeting between Optimus and Megatron which no one was supposed to have witnessed. Had the Decepticons helped Cobra after all? So much for Megatron’s distrust of the “local vermin.”

    100 yards away, behind the cover of a large sign, he let his passengers off and out before transforming. A quick glance confirmed that Nosecone was doing his best to bodily shield his vulnerable companions from the drones’ punishing fire.

    “These drones are supposed to be really dumb,” he told his team, “so we should be able to break their formation just by hitting them hard. I’m going to charge and I want you to keep the ones I knock down from getting back up.”

    Goldbug transformed and gunned his motor.

    “I needed a new paint job anyway.” he muttered.

    Even with poor traction he was going over 60 by the time his bumper and hood found that first drone with a commanding *thud!*

    Hard turn to the right, tail swinging wide with over steer, and another BAT bit it. The third one had barely noticed him before they impacted.

    Speed was under 40 after only three? Primus were these drones heavy!

    As the first shells began exploding against him, he transformed and knocked two more drones down — one of which had something like a minigun — by smashing his forearms into their head or neck.

    “I think you broke their freaking necks!” a rejoicing Nosecone shouted as Goldbug’s fist found purchase on a sixth drone.

    Drones with regular weapons were letting up on Nosecone to concentrate on him. He started firing across the way with his own weapon while using his right fist to take down whatever stood before him.

    Weapons fire from Nosecone’s friends started peppering the BATs in front of him; however, Nosecone didn’t look free to do anything more than shield them.

    Moments before he brought his fist down on a tenth drone, his own team finally opened fire on the run. They were soaked and tired, so should he be surprised that they had taken this long?

    Then seven damaged BATs, the ones he’d just waded through, tried to wrestle him down in a dog pile.

    “They’re like Junkions!” he shouted in exasperation as he clawed a headless drone from off his back and used it like a club against its allies.

    Where was that burst of power he’d seen before? He could really use it now!

    Some part of his mind was compiling a damage report and faithfully telling him how many times he’d been shot or punched.

    *Pwum! Pwum! Pwum! Pwum!* he began firing at point blank range even while madly slinging around his improvised weapon.

    The drone’s legs came clean off after only three blows.

    Face smash; elbow back till something new crumples; stomp on that; shoot; kick; shoot; head butt; roundhouse and follow through with fist down; elbow to a head; knee; shoot; shoot; claw another one off the back– “Prime! Not you again?!?” –circular sweep of the arm and release — pretty arc into the distance far away from the fight.

    By now seven had increased to twenty or more. Didn’t these guys want to play with Nosecone anymore?!

    A hail of bullets from M-16s, now at point blank range, proved a beautiful noise. He couldn’t let up though. Even with their armor his people were vulnerable.

    He transformed and began dragging his dog pile around while trying the shovel even more of the drones onto his hood. Anything to keep them off balance.

    “Hey! That’s my steering wheel!” he yelled as a hand reached in and pulled the slender shape out of its proper place.

    Then something sharp took out his left rear tire and he had to transform again.

    For just a moment as he leapt from the dog pile he had a panorama of the battle around him. Nosecone looked about the way he felt.

    But the BATs looked even worse.

    He began shooting into the battered collection of chassis that he’d just been pulling around. Slowly the mass of drones were beat down.

    None so much as laid a finger on Goldbug for the rest of the fight. Their shells were another matter though....





    “Goldbug? Technobots? Protectobots? Anyone?! This is Autobot City. Answer on our carrier wave if you can!”

    “I’m here Rewind.”

    He heard others report in too. He wasn’t really interested since there were injured to tend to.

    “We lost communications with the whole city.” Rewind needlessly explained, “The Decepticons are using a multiphased neucleon particle field. You need to check for radiation levels in your area ASAP! Protectobots, prepare for mass evacuation efforts!”

    Radiation?! Goldbug, numbed from the revelation, looked over to where Brisco was examining Cassy’s shoulder wound.

    “Goldbug?” she asked, forcing a smile to her face.

    “Rewind,” he practically shouted as he stood up, “we aren’t up against Decepticons. The enemy is Cobra! Repeat, the enemy is Cobra!”

    Rewind was asking him to pull the other one –again– when the ground around them started trembling as if from an earthquake. Then, somewhere off to the north, a plume of bright smoke and a fire ball lit up the night sky accompanied by a thunderous explosion.